


I bet my life on you

by BurningAmber



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Epic Friendship, Falling In Love, Hurt/Comfort, I love AOS uniforms and borrowed that part, Implied Child Abuse, M/M, My first ever work of fiction, Mystery, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Slow Build, Starfleet Academy, T'hy'la, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-09-20 08:00:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 48
Words: 135,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9481976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurningAmber/pseuds/BurningAmber
Summary: Set in TOS Academy, year 2252, follows Jim and Spock's lives, for the first year - my take on how they became what they did.My intention was to be completely canon compliant, so as you read it, be mindful that I was bound by canon all times. This is a prequel to TOS and all that comes after - this is the beginning of Spock and Jim's most epic journey of heroism, sacrifice, leadership, love and pain. If you have wondered how did they meet before TOS, this story is for you.Jim is 19, Spock is 22.





	1. First contact

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThereBeWhalesHere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThereBeWhalesHere/gifts).



> I refer to TOS episodes and movies, throughout, some in subtle ways. The ones which need explicit knowledge, I put in note at end of chapter. But, it can be read as standalone as well, I believe.
> 
> Note : So, as this story has found a few readers, I have since realized how much I suck at punctuation! This is my public apology. English is not my native language and much of it has been learnt through osmosis. So, the mistakes are not due to any disrespect to the language, but my incompetency. I am trying to improve. 
> 
> I'd love to hear your thoughts about it as you read, so please, pleaaseee comment!  
> Disclaimer: I don't own Star trek, it owns me!
> 
> Note: This is complete. Don’t subscribe to this. Subscribe to me as an user:)

2252.6, StarFleet Training Academy,

San Francisco, Earth.

0830 hours. 

 

Spock stepped on to the paved path and started walking briskly. It was an overcast day but it looked unlikely to rain. The Academy grounds were particularly crowded today. The next new batch of cadets were arriving and groups of people huddled everywhere. Older cadets exhibited high energy as they surveyed the incoming fresh ones. As he made his way through the campus grounds, he reflected back on the past two years. 

He had arrived on Earth 830 terran days ago, and began his Starfleet science studies and cadet training. His first year had been spent in learning all aspects of humans, and life on Earth, which were significantly different than the Vulcan's. During this period, he was stationed away from the campus grounds. It was deemed necessary to keep him secluded since the onslaught of being surrounded by humans would have shocked his system.

 

After the first year of slow immersion, which StarFleet designed for him specifically, he had started his regular Academy training successfully on campus. He had learnt to acclimatize to the water rich atmosphere. On the rare days, when it was sunny and dry, he was reminded of his home planet Vulcan, but he did not reminisce about it long. When he had applied to the Academy, the first ever Vulcan to do so, he was met with enthusiastic response from the humans. This was in stark contrast to the Vulcan Science Academy, where his decision was met with cold silence and his father's refusal to respect his choice. In true Vulcan fashion, there were no heated arguments, and no emotional outburst of course but Sarek had nevertheless stopped all means of communication with Spock.

 

Spock noted that the incoming humans were mostly of 17-19 years of age, considerably younger to Spock who was 20, at the time of joining. A Vulcan at 20, however was mentally equivalent to a fully grown mature human adult. As such, he found most of his peers severely lacking in control over their emotions. He observed, as families were saying teary-eyed goodbyes to their children and brothers and sisters for the next five years. He watched with fascination, parents hugging and displaying affection openly. There had been no such farewell for him, and he had arrived alone, much to the astonishment of his classmates a year back.

 

This same human quality had also caused much suffering to his fellow trainees. In the first few weeks, a number of humans exhibited symptoms of restlessness, grief and distress, as they had adjusted to the rigors of training without the benefit of family support. In the following months, some left the academy permanently unable to cope up and of the remaining, many found themselves distracted from their studies by events in their personal lives - particularly of romantic nature. 

 

He had arrived with nothing but few personal items and embarked on a journey, where no Vulcan had gone before. StarFleet had shown much compassion and understanding, in particular an officer called Pike. Pike had taken the young Vulcan under his wings, as the terran phrase went, and saw to it that Spock was assigned a private room in spite of shared quarters being the norm for trainees. Due to his Vulcan background and on grounds of required privacy for daily meditation, Pike had convinced StarFleet to let Spock have a room to his own. Spock was deeply grateful for this gesture - a place to go where he found solitude after daily exposure to human emotions was paramount to his mental well being.

 

At first, Spock wasn't accustomed to the human ways of communicating, and therefore frequently failed to express adequately, in matters involving his personal life. Humans had tried inviting him to parties, girls had approached him showing romantic inclinations, and men had challenged him to wrestling matches and pick up sports. When he had made it clear he was not interested in any of them, they left him alone. He was however, not oblivious to the fact, that this was their way of welcoming him and he acknowledged this human concept of friendship though unable to reciprocate.

He did not need much beyond basic needs and in academia, there were no problems in communications, as his precise and scientific mind was already sought after.

Lost in his thoughts, Spock let his gaze wander around. There were no classes today, the day had been declared as "orientation day" and Spock was not dressed in his uniform. Spock was however on his way to the Science lab, where he planned to continue working on his project.

His eyes fell on a young man with blonde hair, bright eyes and a tall muscular frame. The man was hoisting his single luggage on his shoulders as he got off the bus next to the grounds. He was dressed in the red cadet uniform and Spock stopped in his tracks for no logical reason. He observed the cadet taking in the scene before him - the sprawling grounds filled with a sea of red uniforms. Curiously, he had no family with him, no one that Spock could see had accompanied him. This spiked Spock's curiosity. Unlike the others, he also had just one piece of luggage. Most fascinating.

Spock made a decision and turned away from his intended destination and instead approached the Cadet.

"Do you require assistance?"

The young cadet looked up with eyes which seemed to almost burn with intensity. Spock was taken aback for a moment. Schooling his features back to their normal calm arrangement he waited.

"Are you Vulcan?!" the man counter questioned with a smile.

"Indeed. " Spock waited for the answer to his offered assistance.

"And a Cadet?" Another question.

"I am. "

"What year?" The cadet had started walking and Spock found himself following.

"Second year, accelerated track. "

 

The cadet glanced at him sideways, he was just a little shorter than Spock who was taller than most humans. The young man could not have been more than 18 but there was a quiet determination in his movements. He didn't display any signs of the usual distress or nervousness, that Spock had grown accustomed to from new cadets. Spock wasn't sure anymore if the Cadet required his assistance after all. He decided to proceed back to his Science project.

 

"Have you had a chance to go into space yet?" fired the blonde before Spock had a chance to speak his changed mind.

"I have not. First year cadets are not assigned starship duty." Spock found himself explaining more than he intended. _Interesting_.

"Why not?" 

"I presumed that was the norm after taking into consideration the amount of skill, experience and maturity required of space assignments, that first year cadets were found to be lacking in all three".

"One must not presume anything," was the first non-question the human had spoken so far. And it was quite a declaration from someone who had been on the Academy grounds for precisely 7 minutes.

Spock raised an eyebrow and read the man's face. He had spoken in an easy manner, betraying no defiance or agitation. A smile which radiated warmth was directed at Spock and those bright eyes continued studying him.

"It appears you require no assistance from me. I will then take your leave and allow you to become familiar with your fellow trainees." Spock spoke politely and got ready to walk away.

"Didn't I just say, one shouldn't presume anything?" laughed the young man.

"I am Kirk," and surprising Spock yet again, he didn't extend his hands in the customary earth greeting. Instead he stood tall and waited for Spock to respond.

"I am Spock," and he slowly raised his hand in a ta'al - a gesture he had not made in two terran years - and realized the significance of this young man's awareness.

Kirk mirrored his ta'al and broke into a full smile. The thought of his beloved Vulcan sun flashed in Spock's mind.

 

"You look good in that jacket."  Kirk said with a twinkle in his eyes and before Spock could recover from that statement continued, "Care to show me around?"

Spock found himself incapable of a response for a few seconds. _His jacket?_ He looked down to see his black faux leather jacket.

The cadet seemed completely capable of finding his way around, and judging from the few minutes of conversation, was probably capable of finding his way to space as well, but Spock and his jacket seemed illogically wanting to help.

"Which building have you been assigned to, Cadet Kirk?"

"Building A, room 1015. Aren't all first years assigned to building A?" came back the inevitable question.

"I was told not to presume," Spock replied with a raised eyebrow.

That earned him a golden laughter with a head thrown back. Spock found he was pleased with himself. The next moment he was horrified. _Did he just attempt terran humor?_

"Lead away Mr. Spock!"

******************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Here's how Spock looks in black jacket ;) And a young Jim. 


	2. First day

Kirk woke up to the sound of the automated voice announcing the time in clipped tone. It was 0445 and he was supposed to start his day. He considered for a moment ignoring the voice but then reluctantly threw off the thermal blanket and walked across the room to where the alarm-clock was repeating its message. As soon as he was in range, the device scanned his eyes and the alarm went off - to sound again in 24 hours.

He stretched and peered out his window to look over the bay. His part of the room was one of the lucky few which had a view. The flip side being it was a corner narrow room with an awkward architecture due to being housed under the building's machinery. It was tucked away in the farthest section of the building. This room was L shaped and the shared bathroom was situated between two tiny bedrooms. He had been told most of the times the room remained unassigned. Sharing a room with another cadet was his only real worry before coming to StarFleet. His nightmares and his dark past wasn't something Kirk wanted anyone else to ever know.

His roommate was Cadet Alexai Ivanov - a shy young freckled Russian boy. He looked really young, even considering how young most of them were. They had met last evening and exchanged just a few words before the Russian had fled to his part of the room. Jim felt bad for him; the poor kid was far from his motherland.

The early dawn greeted him with white rolling fog. He could hardly see the tops of the Golden Gate Bridge. He had been warned that the weather changed every mile here. Nothing like Iowa.

He asked the room aloud what the temperature was outside. The automated voice replied, "10 degrees Celsius".

Jim put on his running shorts and pulled on a hoodie. It was end of July in San Francisco but the city hardly wore summer as it was meant to be. It was chilly in mornings.

He broke into a jog as he exited his building and headed straight for the path which ran around the campus along the bay. There weren't many souls awake yet and he enjoyed the quiet grounds before the first day would start and the ground would be swamped with cadets hurrying about. He passed the groundkeeper and nodded a smile to him and soon he was running with music in his ears with the white fog all around him. The path took him away from the main campus and into a trail in a pristine section of the bay area.

After half an hour he reached a point where the trail curved up the slope in a steep grade and the other side was overlooking the water edge. He moved to the edge and stopped to catch his breath. The view would have been breath taking, he was sure, if he could have seen past the mist. Nevertheless he was happy to have something slightly similar to the Iowa wilderness to run in.

It was time to turn around, but before he could step back into the trail, he caught sight of a tall dark figure emerging from the fog, coming down from the hills above him. The runner was covered from head to toe in black - wearing black tracks with matching black hoodie. His tightly coiled muscles moved beneath the thick fabric as he ran with long graceful legs. Jim had a vision of cheetah combined with a gazelle. The guy rounded the corner at an impressive speed not breaking stride and disappeared into the white mist towards the Academy grounds. It was only the ears which gave him away from the distance Jim was at. Those pointed ears belonged to only one - Jim knew that. So, apparently he was not the only one who rose at an ungodly hour. In fact, it seemed the Vulcan rose even earlier, and had already completed a freaking climb up the steep hill. As Kirk made his way back, he marveled at the fact that Spock seemed to be in top physical form. Kirk was extremely fit but Spock had set the bar higher.

Back in his room, he heard Ivanov was awake and just finished shower. So Jim took his turn. Dressed in his red uniform, he waited for his roomie to join him.

When the Russian appeared, Jim brightly said "Good morning! Did you sleep well?"

Ivanov mumbled “Yes," red faced and stood awkwardly.

Jim felt sorry for the boy, maybe he was homesick, maybe he had grown up with a loving family, a sheltered life. Jim would make sure to help the boy acclimatize as best as he could.  
" I am going off to the cafe to eat, I thought we could go together...?" Jim offered.  
Ivanov nodded and they walked out together. Jim tried to ask questions about the Russian’s background and got monosyllables in replies. So he dropped it.

  
He realized they were one of the first few, when they entered the huge atrium hall of the cafeteria. He let Ivanov go first at the food synthesizers. At his turn, as he stood ordering up bacon, eggs and fries, a dry voice droned behind him - "That food will make you an old man before you know it.”  
Jim turned and found himself looking into piercing blue eyes and a tired face of a young man few years older than himself.

"Did you mistake yourself to be my Mom?" Jim asked with a smile.  
"Nah kid, but trust me, if you keep up with this kind of food, you will find yourself out of breath and out of those good looks before long."

"I see, " Jim replied, for lack of anything better, and out of some sense of misplaced guilt, he finished punching his order with a bowl of fresh fruit.

He walked back to the table Alexai had sat down at, slid next to his roommate and looked up as the older man ordered his own tray of disgustingly healthy oatmeal and a glass of water. Jim motioned with his hands towards their table.  
"You always eat this way? " he asked as the lanky man sat down across from them.  
"I try to. "  
"Why? Are you dying?" Jim started attacking his eggs.  
That earned him a chuckle.The man shook his head silently glancing at Jim with a twinkle in his eyes.

"I am Jim Kirk, first year cadet. This is my roommate Cadet Alexai Ivanov. What kind of uniform is that you wearing?"

"McCoy, Leonard McCoy," the man replied. "I am a doctor and I know damn too much about the body to fool myself."

"Sweet! You are a doctor? I guess that explains the attitude." Jim replied with a grin. In spite of the man's criticism of his food choices, he instantly liked him.

  
With the grin still on his face, he turned towards his new roommate, trying to include Ivanov into the conversation. The boy went red and choked on his porridge. Mumbling some apology, Ivanov suddenly got up and managed to say, "I have a class to catch. Thanks for ....for this, Mr. Kirk." Without waiting for a reply, he hightailed out of the cafetaria. Jim stared at him, puzzled. _Did he unintentionally make the Russian uncomfortable?_

  
"Well Mr. Bones, what are you doing here?" Jim turned to the doctor.  
"I am not Bones." McCoy rolled his eyes but his face betrayed amusement before he continued, " What do you mean what I am doing here?"  
"Since you are already a doctor, I am curious what brings you to the Academy," explained Jim with his insatiable curiosity on full display.

"I am here for a yearlong field prep training, given my civilian background, before I go on my first mission." McCoy said with a sigh.

That caught Jim's attention immediately.  
"You are going to space? Which ship? Where?... Why?"  
"Slow down kiddo. Did anyone tell you, you ask too many questions?" the doctor chuckled.

"Next year StarFleet is planning a mission to Dramia II to conduct a mass-inoculation program. I signed up to lead it. " he explained in a resigned voice.

"You don't sound too happy about it....What's so interesting on Dramia II" ? Jim asked eagerly.  
"Yeah, let's just say, space and I have a complicated relationship". Then he leaned towards Kirk and said with much more enthusiasm than he had shown so far, "The planet is a study in desolation; it is the outer space equivalent of 'Devil's Island'-if Devil's Island were a leper colony."

Jim's eyes widened with interest.

McCoy stood up, his breakfast finished. Jim stood up as well, his breakfast done, except for the bacon - for whatever reason he had decided to - at least pretend - eating healthy in front of his new friend.  
"You have to tell me all about it tomorrow! Man, I can't wait to go on a mission! " Jim said dreamily and then with a friendly pat on McCoy's shoulders, he said, "It was nice to meet you Bones, see you tom?"  
Bones rolled his eyes again at the name, but smiled back. "See you tom, kiddo". When he was almost out of Jim's earshot, McCoy quipped, "And go easy on poor Ivanov".  
Jim looked at McCoy with surprise, but the doctor was already on his way out.

  
Kirk's first day went pleasantly. He found most of his classes challenging enough and he liked his classmates. The girls showed extra interest in him as usual and he enjoyed that good naturedly.

In the evening, when he returned to his room, he peeked into his roomie's bedroom and found Ivanov deeply engrossed in his PADD. Jim hesitated for a second but the door had been left open, so he knocked politely. Ivanov looked up startled. Jim slid into the room and asked "How was your day? "  
"It was not bad, Mr. Kirk. "  
"Hey....we are buddies... Call me Jim." He smiled with what he hoped was the right amount of tact.

Ivanov refused to meet his eyes though, and started fidgeting.  
So Jim soldiered on, "Ummm....did you already eat dinner? If not we can go together?"  
The Russian shook his head, eyes fixed downwards and said "I eat early Mr. Kirk. Thank you for asking. "

  
Jim sighed. The kid was either brought up in some aristocracy, or for reason, which Jim could not understand, he just couldn't relax in front of Kirk.  
“It's Jim. Well, I am starving...so I will go and eat some. I may go for a walk later. So....goodnight then Ivanov."  
Finally the slender young Russian looked up and managed to reply, "I will be going out with my phriends. Goodnight.....Jeem" and at that he turned beetroot red again.

As Jim left him alone, he realized with relief, that the boy had managed to make friends after all. So Jim didn't have to take it on himself anymore. Besides, he clearly wasn't helping!

After dinner, Kirk went for a stroll around the meticulously kept grounds. Almost every one of his classmates had gone bar hopping across the city, and some had invited him but he was really not into the whole party scene. Occasionally yes. But not regularly. though he knew his looks and mannerisms caused people to assume the worst.

He was actually excited to walk to the famous Golden Gate bridge and watch the spectacular sun set. He stood over the flowing waters till the sky turned dark. He could make out the few constellations above and the lights from the space docks above the city.  
James T. Kirk was happy. He had finally found a place under the stars, where he could be learning all he wanted to, and his lifelong dream was finally within his reach.


	3. Number One

Spock got dressed in his black uniform as it was his teaching day. A year after arriving, the Academy had realized Spock's potential and asked him to start teaching some of the more elementary level courses. Spock enjoyed teaching. He found sharing his knowledge with the humans, his way of reciprocating the welcome they had extended towards him. He was known as a "strict" teacher (some disgruntled students used terms like "asshole" and "Mr. Rules" ) but he was always pleased to help the few bright cadets who took extra interest and sought out his advice.

 

 As he entered his first class of Astrophysics, he prepared himself mentally to face the new cadets who had joined. The first few days were always a little unsettling because the new cadets took their time in adapting to his method of teaching. Spock put his bag down on the instructor table, and logged into the holo-projector server. Once satisfied, he turned his attention to the class, which had become completely quiet. A few of the new cadets were openly staring at him.

 

Spock took a breath and spoke calmly, "I am instructor Spock. Welcome to StarFleet Academy. I find it easier to first address the issues of my appearance, as no doubt some of you have noticed." Some of the eyes dropped down with a look of embarrassment.

Spock continued, "I am Vulcan and any questions about the Vulcan race will be addressed after class - if there are any. I expect your full attention to the lecture now."

At that moment his eyes fell on a blonde cadet with sparkling clear eyes. _Kirk_. Spock lost his train of thoughts for a micro second. Interesting! That had never happened to him before. His tore his eyes away from the mesmerizing pair and carried on.

 

After 180 minutes, the class was done and the cadets started filing out. Spock gathered up his props of teaching and then glanced up. The last Cadet leaving had stopped by the door. It was Cadet Kirk. Spock was in a bind. He did not know what the proper human expectation was in this scenario. However, mercifully, the moment passed when Kirk gave him a lop sided smile. Then one of the human's eyes completely closed, while the other remained open. And then he was gone! Spock was perplexed. Did the Cadet suffer from a neurological tic?

 

Later that evening, back in his room, Spock could not shake off the morning's encounter with Kirk.

 

After five minutes of deliberation, he decided to look up the StarFleet's exhaustive human behavior database. He found an entry titled "wink", matching the description of what Cadet Kirk had done that morning. Spock read the result with what he hoped was scientific curiosity.

 

"Winking is one of the more subtle gestures, usually involving eye contact between those involved. In most cases it is only meant to be known by the sender and their intended receivers.....

In some cultures it is often a sexual interest, or flirtatious manner, during momentary eye contact. This is often followed by a smile and usually a smile from the receiver if it is accepted or approved by them, sometimes combined with blushing if they are embarrassed."

A green hue colored Spock's cheeks as he assimilated this information. He also noted this was the second time in last 6 days that he had experienced the completely unexpected and illogical curiosity in this particular human. In all the two years spent on Earth so far, he had never been afflicted by such emotionalism. This realization caused the green color to further climb up his cheeks.

 

Vulcans of course didn't feel embarrassment, he reminded himself. He promptly marched off to meditation. He needed an extra hour tonight.

 

 

 

* * *

 

Spock was hunched over his console, in his lab, absorbed in his readings when his communicator beeped. He was working on a personal project about warp core efficiency and it was still in beta phase.

 

He looked at the number but it was not an acquaintance. It was from StarFleet though. He flipped his comm open with curiosity.

_"Cadet Spock, you are requested in meeting room 345B at 1030 hours tomorrow. Please bring your schematics for the warp engine project you have been working on."_

Spock looked at the message for a few seconds. This had to be from an officer, since he had not shared his project with any cadets.

 _"I will be there,"_   he replied.

 

The next day, armed with his PADD, he arrived at the designated meeting room to find a single occupant.

A human female with dark hair, cold blue eyes and a commanding presence was waiting for him, sitting at the head of a long oblong table. She indicated the chair across and Spock silently slid down.

 

She spoke in an even tone, "I appreciate your time Mr. Spock. Hence, I will keep this brief. I am Lieutenant Commander Robbins, Captain Pike’s first officer or simply known as Number One. Captain Pike holds you in highest regards."

Spock indicated his acknowledgement with a slight nod but said nothing else.

"We are preparing for a 5 year voyage, as you must be well aware, and I am here to enquire about your interest in joining the crew."

 "I would be gratified if I am given the opportunity to do so." Spock replied.

 "Excellent. We will require preparing you for this long mission. I am aware that you are in your second year and the average Cadet trains extensively after graduation before embarking on a long voyage like ours. However, I am told you are no average Cadet."

She brought up her PADD then and flicked it on. Handing the PADD over to him, she continued,  "Here is a plan I have drawn up, on Captain Pike's recommendation, which will help you prepare for the mission, while simultaneously finishing up your graduation here. I am aware this will require significant time and effort from you. Please feel free to reach out to me at any time, if you encounter any challenges."

 

Spock briefly glanced over the two year plan. It was detailed, precise and well written. His admiration for Pike extended to his first officer now. The human female or Number One as she had referred to herself, was clearly competent.

"Noted, Lt. Cmdr. Robbins."

"One final item before we wrap up. Am I correct in understanding, that you have been engaged in a personal project on warp core efficiency?"

"That is correct. I have been working on finding a mathematical equation to determine the proper mix of matter and antimatter in the warp core reaction chamber among starship propulsion systems. From my studies of engine failures and accidents in past missions, I have concluded that developing an appropriate intermix formula can prevent destruction of a ship in critical situation. I am afraid my study is in beta stage, and will require significant testing before I can conclude if my hypothesis works."

 

Number One listened attentively and then thought about this for a few moments.

"This is one of my areas of interest as well Mr. Spock. Though my primary duty will be helmsman on the mission, I have been working on projects on warp engine last several years between missions. When I came across your letter for request to research, I was immediately curious. I have read through your proposal, but I would like to listen to the details if you don't mind. Please don't worry about the incompleteness of your solution yet."

 

There were few things Spock found more appealing than talking about one of his science or engineering experiments. He hooked up his PADD with the holo-projector in the meeting room and for the next 45 minutes explained in details his findings and his hypothesis. He was impressed with Number One's grasp on the subject. She asked him intelligent questions and challenged him on some of his assumptions.

 

When he was done, she finally bent her lips in a smallest of smile and her face transformed into a soft warm expression. Spock realized that this was a rare occurrence for the human, and it was their shared interest over warp core, that had brought about this change. He returned the favor.

 

She got up smartly and walked out of the room with the parting words, "Please keep me posted Mr. Spock."

"I will certainly do so."

Spock was already looking forward to the possibility of serving alongside the two brilliant humans like Pike and Robbins. He had not thought possible, before joining StarFleet, that he would find humans capable of commanding his respect. Vulcans were physically, mentally and intellectually superior to humans but Spock was learning that qualities like leadership, courage and justice had nothing to do with one's race.

 

In spite of these developments, Spock had never considered any of these humans outside professional boundaries. Until he had met Cadet Kirk.

 

 


	4. Confusion

By the end of first week, everyone had noticed his astonishingly good looks. By the end of first month, they had realized he had brains too, to match those looks. Kirk was used to this. All his life people had judged him by his boyish looks. Not that he was complaining about the good genes he had been handed down. However, occasionally he did get frustrated, when he had to work extra hard to prove, he was more than just a pretty face. Once he was given an opportunity at anything, it took only a short time before his genius, and maturity way beyond his years, were recognized.

 

Jim had lived through hell. He had faced death and darkness which others his age couldn't dream of. This only made him even more determined. His uncle had recognized this in him and has sponsored him for StarFleet. For that he will be eternally grateful. He knew his place was in the stars and he also knew he was meant to lead. He had always been the one to shelter the weak, stand up for the oppressed, fight for justice and to court risks. Anything else other than a starship captaincy would leave him bored to death.

 

Jim's thoughts swirled about as he got ready for his morning jog. For the past few weeks he had discovered a new motivation to get out of his bed. It was to catch a glimpse of a tall runner dressed in all black. Jim never made his presence known. But every morning, he watched from a safe distance, as Spock ran past the corner of the hill at precisely 0525 in the morning.

 

Jim had met brilliant minds in his class and in his seniors. StarFleet recruited the best and he was happy to be in the company of such great fellow humans. Then, there were the few odd aliens, who chose to train on Earth instead of the Academy's satellite branches on their own planets.  As Jim put on his shorts and hoodie and tied his laces, he mulled over the fact, that the Vulcan was the only one Jim found a mystery.

 

From what little he had ascertained in the past few weeks, Spock was beyond brilliant. He was a genius. Already teaching, before even half way through his training. He was apparently also an athlete of the highest caliber Kirk had seen. The morning run up and down the hill Spock made everyday was equivalent to a full day of hike for Jim. But Spock ran with ease and not a hair was ever out of place. Jim wanted to know more about the dark eyed pointed ears alien being. He admired Spock already. But the Vulcan was hard to find. He was never seen on campus or in the cafeteria or study hall or anywhere Kirk had been hanging out. Spock was intensely private it seemed. Another intriguing trait.

 

Kirk ran his usual circuit, got his morning fix of Spock for the few moments it lasted, and came back to his room. Today was Spock's Astrophysics lecture and Jim was eager to get going. He was going to have his breakfast with Bones, as had become their ritual, and then go to his class. He liked Bones a lot. The man was like an older brother rolled into a friend, with a dry wit to match. Bones was also a breakthrough scientist doctor, as Kirk was slowly learning. He never talked of it but Jim of course had million questions, and the doctor obliged Jim with details of his experiments.

 

Jim opened the door to his side of the room and froze. His eyes swept across his tiny bedroom. The pillows and bed sheets were on floor. The few clothes he owned, were strewn about. His books and sheets of papers had all been carelessly thrown around. It was like a tornado had gone through. Jim slowly walked through the bathroom, which was untouched, over to Alexai's tiny bedroom. It was unoccupied. The russian was a neat freak. So when Jim spotted Alexai's shoes on the floor, lying in a haphazard manner, and his jacket by the front door, Jim's heart started pounding.

Something wasn't right, his intuition was screaming at him. He exited from Alexai's side of their room and looked around the empty corridor. He couldn't see anyone. It was still early and other cadets in their rooms, down the long corridor, were probably just getting out of bed. Jim and Alexai's room was at the end, separated by a long empty space from the other parts of the building.

 

"Ivanov?" He called as he started searching frantically.

A painful whimper came from the dark end of the corridor, past their room, at the very end of the building near the emergency stairs exit.

 

Jim ran and there on the floor, lay a crumpled Alexai, his hands tied behind him, blood pouring from a cut in his head. His left eye was swollen, lips bleeding, and his left knee was bent at a grotesque angle.

Jim's blood ran cold.

 

"Jesus!! What happened to you?" He knelt down besides the young boy, who had pure terror in his eyes.

Alexai was gagged. Jim removed the paper from his mouth gently, and started untying his bound hands.

 

"Jeem!! Don't tell anyone," spluttered the kid with blood stained teeth.

Jim paused and spoke very gently, "You need help buddy, you are hurt and probably going into shock."

 

"NO! Don't tell anyone. They can't know," sobbed the Russian.

"Who can't know?... Who did this to you?" Jim asked in a tight voice still working on untying the tightly bound wrists. Rage and concern flooded him.

 

"He wore a mask. I couldn't see....He came from your side and asked me if I was your boyphriend-"

"He asked _what_?! " Jim was taken aback.

 

"...I said no....and then he dragged me to here and ....started beating me and I don't remember much but ...we heard your footsteps and he escaped." Alexai's head fell back as he gasped for air, having spoken with his last reserves of energy.

 

 "It's okay now. You are safe. He won't hurt you again," Jim murmured gently. He finished untying the pale wrists and examined the head wound. He flipped open his communicator and typed in the number of campus medical service.

" _Please Jeem!!!_ "

Jim heard the urgency and terror in his friend's voice. "What is it Alexai? What are you not telling me?"

 

"My family....can't....they don't know....it will destroy them." The Russian was struggling to breath now. He had started shivering.

"But someone attacked _you_! Why would anyone fault _you_? " Jim was surprised.

 

"Not theee ...att-aa-cckkkk....you caaan't meeenntionn.....abbbbout bbbboy phriend-" Alexai was utterly spent and lost consciousness.

Jim looked at his roommate thoughtfully. After a moment's indecision, he called the emergency services. He had no choice; he wasn't going to let Ivanov bleed to death.

 

When the medics arrived, he didn't tell them anything about what Ivanov had told him; simply that he had been out running and when he came back, he had discovered Ivanov in this condition.

They asked him a couple of questions about Ivanov's possible enemies, any involvement in gangs or drugs etc. Jim honestly could say no to every one of those.

 

Something told Jim he should not mention about the attack in his room either. Instinct was all it was, but so far in his life, his instinct was what had saved him time and again. So he listened to his inner voice.

He watched Ivanov being carried out on the anti-grav stretcher, his mind overwhelmed with worry about the boy's extent of injuries.

 

When they had left, he went back to his ransacked room, a thousand thoughts clamoring for attention.

 


	5. Aftermath

Kirk sat numbly on his trashed bed. In his hand he was still clutching the paper he had removed from Ivanov's mouth. He unfolded the bloody paper and read the words - " _Fuck you pretty boy. If you say one word to anyone, I will hurt your people, you are so fucked James T. Kirk_ ". Jim's head started spinning.

 

 

His wrist watch beeped. It was his reminder for going to his class. Kirk tried to get his thoughts in order. This had to wait. He searched for a fresh pair of uniform tunic and trousers, in the mess, and took a quick shower. He looked for his PADD everywhere, but it was gone! He was already late for breakfast so he decided to skip it.

 

 

As his head exploded with the implication of the attack, his feet automatically took him. Only when he stopped at the cafeteria hall entrance, did he realize he had come here on autopilot. _Shit! Now he was going to be actually late for class!_ He turned around and started sprinting across the grounds, cursing the design of the Academy with buildings so far from each other. By the time he came skidding at the door of the classroom, panting and out of breath, the class had started. Kirk walked quietly to the last row and sat down. Spock didn't stop his lecture but he met his eyes, and there was surprise mixed with disappointment. Kirk felt awful. He knew Spock prized punctuality and Jim himself was never a slacker. This whole morning had started out most bizarre and shocking.

 

He tried to focus on the lecture but found his thoughts scattered. Who had broken into their room? Who does that? It wasn't like he was in some remote seedy part of a small town. This was Academy grounds! And why was Alexai targeted in the first place? _Pretty boy -_ the words from the note sent a shiver down his spine. It was a personal attack. Alexai had been brutalized because of _him_. Jim felt like throwing up.

 

"Cadet Kirk! " A sharp voice from close vicinity brought his attention back to the moment.

"Sir?" Kirk had missed the question, lost in his thoughts, and now Spock was looking at him with a severe expression, standing tall over him.

"Where is your assignment, Cadet?" Spock was making the rounds, checking assignments.

His assignment was on his PADD. Which was missing!

 

"I ...ummm....don't have it. I am sorry,"  he replied lamely, knowing his reputation was shot henceforth.

Spock simply raised an eyebrow but didn't comment further. He went around the classroom commenting on others' assignments which they showed on their PADDs.

Finally, the class was over and he felt everyone's stares as they left the room. He made a dash for the doors, but Spock spoke in a cool voice, "I would like a word with you". Jim's heart sank.

 

When everyone had left and they were alone, Spock approached him. He studied Jim's face for few minutes while Jim studied his own boots. The silence was excruciating.

"I would like an explanation for your lack of punctuality today as well as your missed assignment." Spock finally asked.

 

Kirk knew this was coming of course. He had no answer, though he had spent the last 3 hours trying to come up with one. His head had started hurting and he was starving. He had missed breakfast and he never did that. He hated hunger with a passion.

 

"I have no explanation, Sir," he replied not meeting Spock's eyes.

Kirk's communicator beeped just then. He didn't give out his number to many people, even though rumors would have one believe that he handed it out to every girl, whom he spoke with.

"I see." Spock replied after another lull. "In that case, you are dismissed, Cadet."

 

Kirk nodded and walked out feeling dejected. Spock was the last person he wanted to think poorly of him. He flipped open his communicator. It was Bones.

 

_"Where the hell have you been? You missed breakfast and not a single word all morning? And then, I see your kid Ivanov all beaten up. But they are not telling anything. His parents are enroute to pick him up. You okay kiddo"?_

_"Sorry about missing breakfast. Yeah I am okay."_   He typed back.

_" The hell you are okay. We need to talk!"_

_" Not now Bones, I will see you tom."_

He shut off his communicator.

Jim decided to take his lunch to his room. He was in no mood for socialization. Rest of his day was free. He was supposed to be studying.

 

He walked in a daze without looking anywhere. When he finally reached his room, his lunch in a bag, he was in for another shock. The room looked just as it had been, when he had woken up. All the clothes had been folded and put back in his dresser. The bed was made just as he had left it in the morning. Kirk stared wide eyed. For a moment he wondered, did he imagine the whole thing? Was he going insane?!!!

 

He went over to the study desk and picked up the PADD lying there. He swore it was not here after the attack. He turned it on and everything looked like it always had been. Kirk felt like screaming and pounding the walls. The bedroom across the bathroom was eerily empty and he was going insane.

 

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to focus. He had been attacked before, on a different planet, in different circumstances, but he had survived, he reminded himself. He desperately wanted to talk to Spock, but he knew he couldn't. He didn't care about his own safety, but the note had said, the attacker will hurt _his_ people.

 

The first thing he decided to do was, have the PADD reformatted and wiped clean. Jim ate his lunch while he systematically deleted everything on the device, and had it reformatted. Then he took his PADD over to the security office on campus to get it re-authenticated. He lied to the security officer that he accidentally broke his old PADD and this was a new one. The officer looked at him skeptically.

 

Next was the issue of access to his room. He asked the security guy about the door keypad and how secure was it.

 

"Why do you ask, Cadet? Is there a concern?"

"No officer, I was merely interested because it is one of my areas of research." This was true. Kirk was good at network security and encryption.

 

The man softened and explained in enough detail to Jim, that he could now tweak with it .

And that's precisely what he did as soon as he was back. He added a second layer of coding to his room's keypad.

 

Finally back in his room, exhaustion crippling him, he logged into his PADD, retrieved his assignment from the cloud, and sent it to Spock with the comments - "I am sorry again for today morning. Won't happen again."

Then he crashed onto his bed fully clothed. It was the first night he had missed his cherished walk to the bridge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much thanks to WeirdLittleStories for putting together a tutorial for writers like me. Here is a link http://archiveofourown.org/works/965717/chapters/1894485.


	6. Breakfast

Spock had watched the human with golden hair walk away from his class. He had been taken aback at the youngster's behavior today. After the first two encounters, Spock had looked up his file, using his authority code as an instructor. He had of course expected a stellar background because StarFleet had high standards. What he found was _interesting_.

 

Jim Kirk was no usual bright young man. His IQ was in the genius range and he had a turbulent past. His parents were lost in an accident on a planet whose name was classified in the file. Born in Iowa, he had spent first few years growing up in the mountains ,till the family moved away from Earth. He had a brother, who was stationed at some outpost which Spock couldn't look up, due to privacy locks. Kirk had been sponsored by an uncle for StarFleet.

 

Spock recalled the first day he had seen Kirk, alone and with just a bag over his shoulder. He felt a kinship to the human, as he realized they had more in common than he had first thought. Even though Sarek has ceased any communication with him, he knew Amanda’s affections remained unchanged. That knowledge was a part of Spock’s internal strength. Spock had been dismayed to realize Cadet Kirk had effectively no family at all.

 

This was troubling since Cadet Kirk was a human, Humans, he knew, required comfort and affection. Especially from their parents. Spock had studied human psychology extensively in his first year, and he was now concerned about the Cadet, more so than ever. Why this particular Cadet, he chose not to analyze too deep.

 

After that first week, Spock had monitored Kirk's whereabouts and observed, that the young man was extremely hard working, without openly coming across as such. Unlike his peers, he did not spend time in various drinking joints. His assignments were of a quality far higher than any other first year student Spock had seen. In fact, he had not seen _any_ human in _any_ year, produce such high quality work. Kirk went about his life with a smile on his face and an easy manner, which seemed to make him even more attractive to his peers. Underneath that easy demeanor though, Spock sensed deeper and darker factors at play.

 

So, today morning was disturbing. Even more puzzling, was the fact, that Kirk had refused to answer Spock's queries.

 

 

And now he was watching the man walk away with drooped shoulders.

 

 

That evening, Spock went to his habitual spot on the grounds, from where he admired the rose gardens and the sky above. He had been pleasantly surprised on the first night, to discover the familiar figure of James T. Kirk walking to the bridge, where the Cadet spent a long time staring into nothing. It had become a daily ritual now. Though Spock was always far away from Kirk's position, and Kirk would not know he was being watched, Spock still felt unease, at his desire to simply watch the human. He couldn’t stop himself either.

 

 _Tonight Kirk had not appeared._ Spock waited the entire evening. His concern was now multiplied, knowing something was troubling Kirk. But he had vowed, he would not again bother the young man after his last attempt at "helping", so he retired back to his room, and accepted the reality.

 

Sleep eluded him predictably. He meditated the entire night and by morning, he knew he _had_ to see Kirk.

 

After first year of eating at cafeteria, he had been assigned his own apartment, thanks again to Pike, and it came equipped with a kitchenette. So Spock had started cooking his own simple meals in his one bedroom apartment. He no longer visited the cafeteria.

 

Today morning, Spock broke tradition and decided to seek out Kirk.

 

* * *

Jim awoke with a pounding headache. He groaned when he realized he had slept in his uniform. Slowly he became aware of the automated voice in the room and looked up to see the time. He had slept through his morning run!

 

Yesterday's events came flooding back, as he started getting ready for the day. He went to Alexai's room, but it was just as he had last seen it, yesterday. His heart sank. Was the boy going to recover?

 

Shower done, he dressed in a fresh pair of uniform and contemplated how he was going to face Bones. The man would just see straight through any lies Jim attempted. He considered excusing himself out of breakfast for a moment, but then decided that would make Bones even more suspicious.

 

Inside the skylighted atrium, with potted trees from various planets, Bones was already at their usual table, oatmeal on his tray, eyes locked onto Jim's. Jim put effort in making his expression as normal as he could.

 

They ate everyday together since that first day. Ivanov had stopped having breakfast with them after the first three days. He had found his own group of friends. Jim looked towards the table where Ivanov's gang sat, and noticed them looking at him with various degrees of anxiety on their faces.

 

He decided to go and talk to them first. No one knew anything more than himself. In fact, they were completely shocked that, someone as sweet as Alexai had been bullied. One of his friends told Jim that Alexai's parents were arriving at the Academy today.

 

Finally he walked to his table and faced Bones.

 

McCoy didn't say anything, just studied him as Jim started eating.

 

"What are you looking at? I said I am fine. Nothing happened to _me._ " Jim finally said.

"Nothing happened to you _physically._ Don't try to tell me you are _fine!_ I have never seen you ignoring your food like this! And you look tired. And I bet my ass-"

Kirk cut him off. "Okay yes, I am obviously shaken up. I mean something terrible happened to Ivanov!"

 

McCoy softened up. "Yes. I saw him when he was brought in. I was just getting started on my shift. He looked in bad shape. Wonder who held a grudge against the kiddo. Don't you know?"

 

Jim felt sick. He shook his head and moved his fork around his plate without really eating anything.

McCoy thought aloud, "Did he ever mention anything? Anything at all bothering him?"

"He hardly talked to me Bones. I don't think he liked me much."

Bones gave a small yelp and choked on his oatmeal.

 

Jim finally looked up to see what had got to his friend. Bones was looking at him with wide eyes, and then, Jim saw someone standing at their table, with a straight back. It was Spock!

 

"I apologize for the intrusion. May I join you gentlemen?" Spock said stiffly, a tray with some green soup like liquid, in his hands.

 

In spite of himself, Jim’s heart soared and he broke into a smile. He didn’t know how badly he wanted to see Spock, till he actually saw him standing there.

 

"Spock! Of course you can join us."

Bones looked at Jim with a startled expression and that made Jim smile wider.

 

“This is my friend Dr. McCoy. McCoy, this is Spock."

 

Spock nodded and said formally, “Doctor", and sat down next to Jim.

 

Jim was still smiling at the reaction on his doctor friend's face. It wasn't easy to render Bones speechless but he was right now staring back and forth between Spock and Jim.

 

The he huffed and stabbed at his oatmeal and muttered, "You are not getting away this easy kid."

Jim replied innocently "I wasn't trying to. "

" Well..." and he looked hesitantly at Spock.

 

"You can say anything you want, in front of Spock, Bones," Jim said softly. As he said so, he realized it was true. He had never thought about it till, now but he trusted Spock implicitly. He didn't really know why, but he did.

 

 

At this, Bones was startled again, but he quickly regained composure, and drawled on, "Okay then, you are wrong about Ivanov. Dead wrong!"

"How so?” asked Jim, wincing at the memory of Ivanov's blood soaked face at the word, "Dead".

"He doesn't just not like you, you oblivious fool. He is positively crazy about you!"

"WHAT!!" Jim was shocked.

"Jeez Jim! Didn't you know? The whole Academy knows." Bones rolled his eyes.

"Knows what?" Jim was now panicking.

"He has a crush on you Jim."

"That's impossible! I told you he avoids me. He didn't want anything to do with me."

"He doesn't speak to you because the poor kid is tongue-tied ,you dumbass. I saw it the very first day. It must have been hard on him being your roommate and all...but I thought, by now, you knew?" Bones shook his head exasperated.

 

Jim sat with his mouth open, staring at Bones.

 

"I have to go now...Umm, it was nice meeting you Mr. Spock. Keep an eye on him for me, will you? He hasn't been himself since the attack." Bones spoke to Spock, standing up.

It was only then, Jim remembered Spock was at the table! And he had heard the whole conversation about Ivanov. Jim was instantly embarrassed and his cheeks flushed.

 

“I am not a baby, Bones,” he grumbled. But the doctor was already walking away.

 

Resolutely, he fixed his eyes down on his breakfast, and willed his blush to go away. His head was full of conflicting thoughts!

 

_Alexai had a crush on him?_

_Why was Spock here? He never EVER saw Spock in the cafeteria!_

_Is that why Alexai was targeted? The attacker knew about this...crush?_

_Was Spock looking at him? Oh God, why was he still blushing like a fool!_

_The perpetrator had asked Alexai if he was Jim's boyfriend! Shit! That's why he was chosen!_

_STOP blushing!_

He cursed his body with its racing heart and stupid blood pooling his cheeks.

_Not very captain like Jim._

 

A deep voice spoke softly, "May I make a personal enquiry?"

Jim nodded not trusting his voice.

"How does Dr. McCoy employing derogatory words towards yourself make him your 'friend'”?

 

Jim's head jerked up at the unexpected question, and again, in spite of himself, he broke into a grin. But he still didn't look at Spock directly.

"That's how humans talk, Spock. He doesn't mean them, not in any real way."

"Interesting. May I make another personal enquiry?"

"You don't need my permission. You already have it." Jim replied.

 

A pause.

"Am I then correct in assuming that your current state of mind is not a result of Dr. McCoy's use of abusive words? "

 

Jim sighed. So, now Spock was going to grill him. Great!

 

"Cadet Kirk, I realize I am violating your privacy. I was...concerned, after your uncharacteristic display of behavior yesterday. However, I will leave, since my presence is clearly causing your discomfort." Spock said in a voice devoid of emotions and started getting up.

"Spock, stay." Jim said in a low voice without looking up. But Spock had heard it. Spock hesitated and Jim finally looked up to meet those eyes. Eyes which had seared themselves in his mind, since the first time he had looked into them, on the first day of his arrival.

Those eyes which remained closed off, whenever Spock lectured. But he had seen those eyes open and warm and something deep lied in them, which called to Jim.

 

They were currently looking at Jim with the same openness, and there was concern in them. And some intense emotion that Jim couldn't identify.

"Stay," said Jim again. Spock sat down.

  

* * * 

 

At mid-day, his communicator chirped. It was from Ivanov! The guy had never once commed him in all these months. In fact Jim had forgotten that they had each other's numbers. But of course they did. They exchanged it the first day due to Jim's enthusiasm.

Before he realized Ivanov actively avoided him. And now it seems he avoided him _because he liked him?!_!

 

Jim shook his head to clear some of his confusion. He read the message.

"Can you come to med bay please? I need to see you."

"Of course! I am on my way right now."

 

Finally! Kirk had been worrying sick about his roommate. He sprinted across the lush green grounds to Campus hospital medical building. He was stopped at the entrance by a guard. He gave Ivanov's name and the guard bio scanned him, only then was he allowed to proceed.

 

The inside of the building was quiet. Quieter than any other campus buildings he had been to. There were bright flowering plants along the long corridor and skylights every few meters. He could see a section of garden from the huge bay windows as he walked past, room after room with numbers on the door. No names. Jim was starting to build a hypothesis about the presence of the guards and the heightened security.

 

He arrived at room 301, as instructed by the guard and knocked gently.

"Come in," said a voice.

He stepped inside taking off his red cadet hat and tucking it under his elbow.

 

An elderly couple sat in the couch next to the bio-bed.

Ivanov looked up and spoke to his parents in Russian and they got up and smiled at Kirk as they passed him out of the room.

"Thank you," the older woman said gently, her eyes swimming with emotion.

“Ma’am.” Kirk said simply.

 

He turned to his friend who looked bruised and swollen with different shaded of red and purple.

"Thanks for coming," said the Russian shyly.

"I am the last person you should thank....How are you? What does the doctor say?"

"I will be fine Mr. Kirk...My parents are here, as you saw. I will be leaving with them tonight."

"That's good, buddy! You should recuperate at home, take your time healing before coming back."

"Mr. Kirk...I am...not...coming back," the words came out haltingly.

"Oh?...... _Oh!",_ was all Jim could say. _Ivanov was leaving StarFleet?_

 

"I don't have much time Mr. Kirk. My parents will be back any minute. I asked you here because I ......you...," and the boy was struggling to find words.

"Just say it. Whatever it is, please, Ivanov, the least I can do is to listen." Jim spoke earnestly.

"My parents don't know. About me." Ivanov said in a small voice.

"About you...? " Kirk was confused.

"Yes...Mr. Kirk, about my...about I liking...they know you only ..as my roommate," and the face turned red. But the boy took a deep breath, and plowed on. Clearly, this was something very important, and Jim _had_ to understand.

"My parents are traditional. They believe in girls and boys loving each other and family. They cannot know about me...." He looked up pleadingly.

 

Understanding dawned on Kirk's face. He silently thanked Bones for enlightening him about Ivanov's crush. He had been clueless, but now he understood.

 

"I am not telling anything to anyone, Alexai," and he instinctively went to squeeze the young man's hand, in an act of reassurance but Ivanov's breath sped up, and he looked so torn that, Jim paused midway awkwardly.

He kicked himself mentally. _The boy has a crush on you, Jim! What are you doing to him?_

 

Kirk took a step back and simply said solemnly, "You have my word."

A sigh and then in a low tone, "You must leave now Mr. Kirk. My parents can't see me with you. I ....", he closed his eyes with exhaustion, embarrassment, pain...and a mixture of emotions flitted against the freckled cheeks.

 

Jim felt pathetic. He was the cause of so much pain to this shy boy.

He said, "Goodbye Ivanov. Be well," and walked out of the room to spare Ivanov anymore misery.

As the door closed behind him, he heard a whisper, "You too Jeem."


	7. Guilt

The next few days were one of the hardest. The weight of guilt lay on Jim's shoulders like lead. A promising young man's career had been cut short, for no fault other than being _his_ roommate, and for the innocent act of liking _him_. He could not see how he could forgive himself. This was not the first time people close to him had been hurt. Memories of Tarsus IV came viciously alive these last few days- the torture, the hunger, the fight to survive and the sacrifices. In the end, he _had_ survived, but lost everything in the process. He had no family left. His only brother Sam didn't want to be in his life anymore.

 

He had thought he had buried that chapter, but after someone like Ivanov, who was not his family and had done nothing wrong at all, except to know Jim Kirk, had to leave StarFleet because of _him,_ Jim was devastated. He tried his best to carry on. Studying, eating, running but sleep eluded him. If nightmares were his constant companion in the past, now sleeplessness was. Not knowing the identity of the man who caused all this, just made it worse.

 

Bones had reassured Jim that in spite of internal hemorrhage, Ivanov was going to fully recover. So, Jim was left to stew on the whole issue by himself as life seemed to carry on for others.

 

Jim had started avoiding people. Unless he absolutely had to, he stopped talking to anyone. He was paranoid about who might be the next innocent victim. He concentrated all his energy on his studies and drowned himself in them.

 

His time on the bridge each evening, was where he felt some peace, as it was now. He spent sometimes hours there now, standing alone in the darkness, late into the night, in the comfort of his constant companions - the stars. The weather had turned cooler and it got somewhat chilly at nights. The cold made Jim feel alive. The dark waves lapping beneath him at the massive pillars, on which the bridge stood, were a soothing lullaby. He looked up.

 

Somewhere up there in dark sky, Starships were being repaired, others getting ready to launch on missions. The historic win at the battle of Axanar had energized the federation and infused new vigor into StarFleet's vision of exploration, and forging new inter-planetary friendships. Jim yearned to be on one of those missions. To leave behind all this mess of petty hatred and bigotry. Space - that final frontier - where he could forget everything. The vastness and sheer magnitude of the universe humbled him when his own problems threatened to overwhelm him.

 

Bones had backed off once it had become clear Jim wouldn't talk about the incident. But he knew his doctor friend was worried about him. He couldn't blame McCoy, but try as he might, Jim just couldn't fake his depression in front of Bones. Jim had tried at first to distance himself from Bones, but with the tenacity of a pit bull, McCoy refused to let Jim be.

 

Then there was Spock. Jim didn't know what to do with Spock. The Vulcan never intruded but like McCoy he too absolutely refused to give up coming for breakfasts. So Jim was stuck with his two friends whom he saw every morning and worried about them becoming the targets of the madman. Reluctantly, he admitted to himself, that his sanity had been saved by their firm insistence on continuing to be part of his life. He must have done something right to earn the unshakable loyalties of such men. Or rather one such man and one such alien.

 

Not everyone felt the same about Jim though. He had attracted the wrath of an upper classman who had taken upon himself to be a pain in the ass. The Irishman seemed to take a particular delight in hazing Kirk. Kirk usually took such actions in stride but lately with everything going on in his life, he had started detesting the Irishman with a passion.

 

When Jim enlisted, he was prepared to lose his life in service. Every Cadet was made aware of that. He doubted though, if some of them realized the true courage required. Jim had stared at death in the face, as a boy, and that had molded his character. He neither feared it nor desired it. However, what he had not considered was the death or sacrifice of others for him. Ivanov's loss may not have been during a mission but if Jim was going to follow his dream of Captaincy, then this was a possibility he had to face. There would be scenarios where others would be used as leverage to break him. How would he cope and be the man he wanted to be, if he couldn't handle what had happened to Alexai?

 

A cold breeze blew making him shudder. It was time to go back. It was past mid night and he had to at least attempt to catch few hours of sleep. He turned away from his favorite spot and made his way back slowly, taking the time to breathe in the cool fresh air. His heart was heavy but he was digging deep, trying to find courage to accept all that had happened, and the stamina to go on. Some days like today, Jim felt like he was a hundred years old. A life time of battles and scars and heart breaks had somehow all managed to fit in his very short life.

 

A snippet of an old earth poem by Henry Longfellow, came to his mind, as his feet carried the weight of a young man, who had seen more of life than anyone knew.

 

_The heights by great men reached and kept_

_Were not attained by sudden flight,_

_But they, while their companions slept,_

_Were toiling upward in the night._

_Standing on what too long we bore_

_With shoulders bent and downcast eyes,_

_We may discern - unseen before -_

_A path to higher destinies,_

_Nor deem the irrevocable Past_

_As wholly wasted, wholly vain,_

_If, rising on its wrecks, at last_

_To something nobler we attain._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reference to battle of Axanar can be found in the TOS episode: "Whom Gods destroy". Here is an excerpt from Memory Beta:  
> "The Battle of Axanar was an armed conflict fought by the Federation at Axanar in 2251. Garth of Izar led the Starfleet forces in this battle, and his tactics there became required reading at Starfleet Academy. (TOS episode: "Whom Gods Destroy")"


	8. Sunday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kudos :) They mean so much!

It was Sunday. Spock had found the terran concept of Sundays most refreshing, once he had adjusted to the idea of an "off" day. He had long developed the habit of spending the entire day meditating at his favorite spot. On Vulcan, meditation was part of life and every student was expected to spend the pre-requisite hours meditating, in addition to scientific studies daily. At first, Spock had found his schedule on Earth most unfavorable for this.

 

Though he slept much less than the average human, and spent those hours meditating, he still needed more hours, especially considering the environment he lived in. So he relished Sundays where he could spend the entire day in deep meditation, undisturbed.

 

Spock had started partaking in morning meals with his human companions every day except Sundays, since that first day he had appeared in cafeteria. He timed his arrivals such that Dr. McCoy was always leaving and Spock got to spend a few minutes alone with his object of concern. Those few minutes had come to mean more than the sunrise to Spock. He was not at peace until he could ascertain for himself, that the young man, with the smile that could cure darkness, was well and alive and functioning. That smile had been missing conspicuously since the incident.

 

Dr. McCoy was a passionate human. Spock would not, on his own, approach such a volatile human being. However, beneath the explosive displays of emotion, the doctor cared deeply about Cadet Kirk. This was sufficient reason for Spock. The doctor had sought him out, on one of the rare mornings Cadet Kirk had missed breakfast, complaining of a headache. They discussed their concerns over the health of their mutual breakfast companion and agreed to keep each other abreast of any developments. By an unspoken pact, each made sure to meet Cadet Kirk at least once every day, and let the other know. On days the Doctor had an early morning surgery, Spock would do his duty and send a comm message with his customary words, " Dr. McCoy, Breakfast was without incident. Cadet Kirk remains as he was."

The doctor always had follow-up questions like, "What did he eat?" or " Did he finish his breakfast?" or " Did he crack any jokes?". Spock indulged the doctor because, though in other circumstances such questions would simply be frivolous, the current situation made Spock deeply anxious about every minor human behavior the Cadet displayed. Spock was still learning about Cadet Kirk, and he was far from being an expert yet. So, in the interest of thoroughness, he entertained and considered everything Dr. McCoy said, as contributions to his knowledge base. Spock reminded himself that the doctor was also a trained psychologist.

 

On Sundays like today, the Doctor would return the favor, and let Spock know that Kirk was well.

 

Spock packed his robe, mat and a bottle of water, and set out for his meditation retreat in the dark hours of the early morning. By the time dawn broke over the city of San Francisco, Spock had already reached the top of the hill, and changed into his robe.  He was waiting for the message from Dr. McCoy, without which he could not proceed to meditate, when his comm chirped.

A new message from the Doctor said, "Mr. Spock, I will be gone all day today due to family business. I will not see Jim for breakfast. Take care of him, will ya?" Spock checked his internal clock, as well as the external one. It was too late for him to go back and catch the Cadet at cafeteria. He would visit the Cadet later that evening, he decided.

He replied, "Noted, Doctor", and switched off his comm.

Spock spread his mat on his usual rock, which jutted out of the cliff, facing the vast open waterfront, and sat down with crossed legs, and hands lightly clasped on his lap. Once he concentrated on his breath, his mind slowly quieted.

 

Concerns about Kirk's past few days' behavior whirled around in his mind, as he slipped deeper into his mind. He examined the new thoughts and emotions, and one by one, his mind went over them, classified, sorted, and processed. He acknowledged his own highly emotional reaction to this particular human and that too was classified, labeled, and processed.

 

He had found out using his instructor privileges about the attack on the human named Alexai Ivanov, and his subsequent departure. The report was however classified and Spock could not find out any details. The few times Spock had brought up the topic during their breakfast, the human's bright eyes had clouded and misery had twisted his expression. So, Spock had stopped. But Spock was at a loss. He was deeply uncomfortable that the attack had taken place in such close proximity to the Cadet's quarters and that he had no idea, if this was a one-time act ,or if the human was in any danger. He realized that he had no claim over the youngster, and his access to the person of James T. Kirk rested entirely on the charity of the said human.

  

There was no denial, no dishonesty inside his mind. Everything was taken as it was. Vulcans did not run away from emotions, as many believed. They simply processed them differently. They understood the fleeting and volatile nature of feelings. Vulcans did not allow emotions to rule them, because that caused needless stress, discomfort and ultimately, unproductivity in life. He embraced Surak's teachings but his time on Earth was teaching him what emotions really meant.

 

He had always felt strong emotions towards his Mother. And equally strong unpleasant emotions for his Father. Sarek was something of an enigma to Spock. He had married a human female yet he showed no inclination towards understanding the human half of his own child. And now he had disavowed Spock completely. They had not spoken for years. It was not that Spock "missed" anything, not in the way humans missed their parents or home. However, he did find himself thinking of them from time to time. Specially Amanda. Amanda with all her gentle unconditional affection for a son and a husband, who could not express that very same sentiment back to her. 

 

Clarity, wisdom and peace descended upon him, as the sun rose and sunlight reflected back from his soft thick black hair.


	9. Hike

Jim awoke and remembered it was Sunday. His first Sunday had been spent exploring the city with few of his classmates. But since then, he took to spending Sundays by himself. It was a rare break from the grueling schedule the Academy had set up for them. It had been weeks since the attack. Things were back to normal except in his head. Life carried on all for everyone.

There were quite a few cadets who had left for various reasons, since their cohort had started training. So no one, except perhaps Ivanov's closest friends, doubted anything. At Ivanov's parents' request, the details and news of the attack was not publicly disclosed, and the information was considered classified now.

He commed Bones about breakfast and his plans.  
"Bones, What are you up to?"  
"Hey kid, I have some personal affairs to settle today. Am afraid I'll miss breakfast and be gone most of the day."  
"Sounds fun! See you later."

Spock never joined them for breakfast on Sundays. So he was on his own. Which really wasn't bad at all. An idea struck him and a small rare smile spread on his face.

He packed water bottles, a bug bite kit, an old style paper map of the trails around the Academy grounds, and set off to the cafe hall. There he ate a relatively healthy breakfast, Bones would have approved of, and then he packed couple of cold sandwiches, some bananas and some chocolate energy bars from the food synthesizers. He was all set for his adventure and was actually surprised to find himself excited. He had been dying of curiosity the last many months, about the hill where he took his morning runs. Today was the perfect day to scale it, and see for himself, what lied at the top. He checked he had his communicator securely strapped to his waist, then left the cafe to start jogging.

It was a crisp cool morning. No clouds in the sky - a rare phenomenon - a promising sign. Soon, he reached the point, where he turned around every morning, but today he took the trail which led up the hill. The climb was strenuous and his ascent was slow. He enjoyed every second of the hike, and stopped many times to appreciate the beauty around him. Growing up in Iowa had impressed upon him a love of mountains and hiking. But he had missed that once they left Earth. Today he felt at home in a long time. There was something in the air on this hill - tranquil and healing - which seemed to cocoon Jim in a soothing embrace.

By noon, he was sweating and getting hungry. He was almost to the top. He cleared the last line of trees and then the flat hilltop was visible in front of him. As far as eyes could see, blue sky met the blue water, and a delicious breeze blew. Before he could drink in the sight fully, his eyes landed on something unexpected.

Just a few meters ahead, where the cliff dropped off sharply, sat a serene figure with crossed legs, on some wool like mat, unmoving. Kirk stared mouth agape.  
_Spock!_  
Dark eyes were gazing at him as if this was just a usual moment in a usual day. As if he was just part of the vista. 

Kirk's face flushed with embarrassment. Had he unintentionally violated a private sanctuary? He had not considered Spock would be here, at this hour. He assumed the Vulcan would have finished his morning workout as usual. Had he known Spock would be doing, whatever he was doing, Kirk would never have come here.

Kirk mumbled, "I am sorry. I didn't realize you would be here..." and he turned around hastily.

A deep voice held him back, “Apology is unnecessary. No harm was intended." Spock rose up from his mat and folding it, he continued, "I admit no human or non-human has ever come here in the days I have been on Earth. However, I am pleased that you have shown interest."  
  
Kirk's back was to Spock but he paused. He was still hesitant. It was clear to him that Spock had come here to be by himself. In fact, he apparently came here every morning, and on Sundays, he missed their breakfasts probably to spend time here instead. This place obviously held a special significance for Spock, and Jim really didn't want to upset the balance in their delicate friendship by crossing some unspoken boundary. He had no idea about Vulcan etiquette in this situation.

With his back still to Spock he replied, “I was actually going back anyways Spock. I will see you later," and with that, he restarted tracing his steps away from the tall figure.

"Please...Stay", came back the reply, each word spoken with such conviction and depth, that Jim felt a shiver run down his spine. Jim's eyebrows shot up at those words -  _his_ words, spoken in moments of need many days ago, were being returned to him. He slowly turned around and faced Spock. They looked at each other and several moments passed.

"Thanks. I was going to eat some lunch. Ummm....you can join if you want to?" Jim replied finally.  
"Though I do not require sustenance, I would not be averse to sharing your mealtime. If you give me a minute, I will change into terran clothing."

   
It was then, that Kirk noticed that Spock was wearing a robe, and nothing else. In true Spock fashion, the robe was thick and covered every part of the slim figure, from his shoulders to toes, more like a huge blanket than a garment.  
But Spock's feet were bare. Long bony pale toes splayed on the mat- a pair of feet which looked..... _beautiful_.

Kirk's eyes went to a small neat pile of clothes, stacked next to the mat. He suddenly swallowed and turned around one more time to give the Vulcan privacy.

  
A small clearing of throat pulled Kirk back from his day dreams. Kirk could not help but stare again. He had never seen Spock outside uniform or running gear, except the first day, and he had forgotten how good that tall lean body looked in a pair of jeans. Spock was wearing a thick white turtleneck sweater on top. Kirk's heart did a little flip. Spock's dark hair blew slightly in the breeze and his lips had a slight curve to them.

Jim had never ever seen a male this captivating. In spite of Spock's tall figure, and his obvious physical strength, the guy stood almost shyly, with a slight bend to his head, shoulders slightly hunched, hands clasped behind his back, brown eyes trained on Jim looking through lashes.  
Jim felt fierce protectiveness sweep through him. He blew a long silent breath.

"Where should we eat?" He asked, as his stomach made a loud growl.  
"Would that tree be amenable?" Spock pointed to a tree not far away where they were.

Kirk nodded, they walked together and Jim sat down on the grass. He brought out his lunch bag.  
When it was apparent Spock had nothing with him, Jim couldn't resist asking, "You don’t eat lunch?"  
"As I stated earlier, Vulcans do not require as much sustenance as humans. I seldom find the need for a mid-day meal." No wonder Jim never saw him in cafe at lunch.

“Well, I will find it ...Ummm... I mean, I brought extra." He pointed to his assortment of fruits, bars and sandwiches.  
Spock seemed to understand Jim's discomfort. He extended a slender arm, picked up a banana and started slowly peeling it with precision.

Jim tore his eyes away from the long fingers and forced himself to face the wonderful view stretching in front of him. They ate in silence. It wasn't uncomfortable actually. Spock was the calmest person Jim had come across. He ate his sandwiches, finished a banana and drank a whole bottle of water.

And then he burped. Jim froze. He wasn't the type to feel shy on burping! Hell, he had done worse in front of his friends. But with Spock, who was so prim and proper and even ate a banana like a prince, Kirk felt downright disgusting. He was like a pig in front of a royal horse, he thought morosely.

When he looked up to see Spock's reaction, he found warm pools of amber looking at him, and a small bent on the thin lips. So, Spock was amused! Oh well, he was going for admiration but he would settle at amusement. At least, Spock wasn't revolted by his human bodily functions. He wondered if Vulcans burped.

They spent the remainder of the day hiking back together. The trees were changing colors. Fall was here and golden leaves crunched under their foot as they walked. They saw small creatures dart past them. Once they stopped to admire an Eastern Fox Squirrel - the full name whispered by Spock of course - as the little mammal busied itself gorging on its loot. Another time, Spock touched Jim's shoulder lightly, to bring his attention towards a thick cluster of trees. An Elk was behind the leaves quietly munching away. Spock leaned over and whispered, "Tule Elk - Cervus elaphus", and Jim couldn't help but smile at Spock's encyclopedic knowledge.

A gorgeous white and orange butterfly fluttered above them as they watched the Elk. Spock stretched out a long arm with his palm open. To Kirk's astonishment, the butterfly landed on Spock's outstretched palm. Jim looked up to see Spock, who could be as still as a statue, and Spock turned his head slightly towards Jim, his eyes alight with amusement. The sight of the delicate butterfly perched on his palm, and Spock studying it tenderly, tugged at Kirk's heart strings. Finally, Spock leaned over and blew slightly, and the butterfly continued on its journey. Jim looked at Spock questioningly, to which Spock dutifully replied, "Sara Orangetip, Anthocharius sara", and Jim nodded, "Ahh I see", with a smile that threatened to take over his face.

It was beautifully quiet in this world - away from the thousand voices and babbling sea of chaos of the Academy - just the birds and the scurry of little animals. And Spock's silent breathing besides him. Jim's own breathing was not as silent. The hike was not easy and his human lungs made their presence known but he was not complaining. The exertion had helped clear his head. Watching Spock like this, in such unguarded fashion, was like a balm to his aching soul. The Vulcan probably could have zipped through the rough terrain, but Kirk was human, even though in prime physique, and Spock seemed content to match his speed to that of Kirk.

Kirk was quiet as he made his way down. Thoughts of the attack, about his future career and memories from Iowa ran through his head like meandering streams. And on top of those thoughts, musings about his Vulcan hiking partner, flowed and filled every nook and cranny of Jim's mind. He had planned to spend the day alone. With Spock, he actually found company, which was better than solitude. Spock could have easily used this opportunity to probe him, but he did no such thing. Jim silently acknowledged this. There was an unspoken respect and deep understanding developing between them, the likes of which Jim had never known. Spock's calm and logical nature proved to be the best antidote to Jim's stress. He also felt refreshingly free from putting on a facade of cheerfulness as he would have done in any human's company. There was no small talk but there was absolutely no awkwardness either. It was like they had known each other for eons.

Kirk came to admire this new aspect of his Vulcan friend, as he watched Spock interact with nature. There was an air of gentleness in the alien being next to him, even though one could easily miss that, if one concentrated on the lack of external cues. Spock didn't smile openly, neither did he exhibit much of any emotion, and had an air of aloofness about him all the time. But as Kirk had discovered the first day, and over the last several days over breakfast, he had his own brand of humor, and now Kirk understood Spock also possessed a rare breed of kindness, which extended towards the littlest of life forms.

They reached the flat ground at the base of the hill and the Academy buildings came into view. The sun started dipping behind them. Kirk realized just how privileged he was, to have been gifted the silent but compassionate company of his Vulcan. He could not recall ever spending a whole day with another being, and not having to speak more than a handful of words, and yet feel like millions of words had been exchanged.

They stood where they would part ways. Kirk's face mirrored his inner gratefulness. He said in an emotion laden voice, “Thank you."  
And Spock simply nodded his head a tiny bit and replied, “I would not be averse to repeating the experience."

Jim knew he shouldn't spend more time with Spock. He must not jeopardize his friend's safety. But he could not refuse the offer outright. He told himself he will do so later. At this moment though, the strength to turn away eluded him. He felt overcome with emotion and unable to reply.

Spock spoke again. “I would also not be averse to join you on your run back every morning. I am grateful to you for respecting my privacy but I have been aware for some time now, that the timings of our morning exercises coincide."

Jim's eyes widened. _Spock knew about his morning ...umm observations?_  
What could Jim say? There was no reason he could share, to refuse, and every reason to agree. Spock was reaching out to him. Jim knew this was not a trivial gesture coming from a Vulcan.

So he replied truthfully, "Spock, I would really like that though I will slow you down. A LOT."  
"Perhaps we can make it mutually beneficial if you consider me as your running partner and think of the morning runs as an experiment to incrementally increase your speed to match mine till you reach your human limits." Spock said.

Kirk couldn't deny that sounded like a fantastic idea. He could use someone who was fitter than him, to help him become faster, stronger, better.  
"Deal! You are on!" He replied enthusiastically.  
Evidently satisfied, Spock replied, "I wish you a restful evening Cadet Kirk".  
"Good night Spock", and they separated.

Kirk watched Spock walk away before he turned around and made his way to the cafe hall, where grabbed a quick dinner. Walking back to his own quarters, he was on high alert as he had developed a habit of since the attack, but as usual nothing untoward happened. Only when he was changing into his night pants, did he wonder what did Spock mean by mutually beneficial? As far as Jim could see, all the benefit was to him. A slow human was hardly any benefit to Spock.

Perhaps tired from his long hike and mental stress, or perhaps because of Spock's calming influence, he slept soundly that night after many, many sleepless nights.


	10. Recovery

Leonard was worried about Jim. The kid had been avoiding all his questions and he was damn sure something was wrong. But between his troubles with his wife, his experiments, keeping up with the training StarFleet had put him under, and his shifts at the hospital, he just didn't have enough time to find out more.

 

Today was a lab day. He had been working on developing a surgical procedure for the humanoid brain. His idea was to graft neural tissue to the cerebral cortex, followed by the creation of an axonal pathway between the tissue graft and the basal ganglia, but he was having trouble with the graft. He sighed and decided to take a break.

 

The beautiful young cadet who was his assistant, had been working since late last night. She looked exhausted as well.

"Ruth, this one is a fail. We will start over. Why don't you take a break?" McCoy said gently.

"Sir, give me another hour. I really want to try one last thing," replied the diligent girl.

 

McCoy sighed again. He could hardly fault her for persistence. That was the hallmark of a good scientist.

He had an idea. Today was a good day to try getting Jim to come over and have lunch with him at the medical building's cafeteria. McCoy's day was free for next many hours due to the experiment now considered failure.

He flipped open his comm and typed,  _" Jim, where are you?"_

_"Finishing up Archaeology, why?"_

_"How about lunch with me today at the med building?"_

_"I don't know Bones, I have to get to Quantum Chemistry in an hour."_

_"I won't ask any of my questions. Besides, I have been waiting to show you my lab. C'mon kid!"_

_"Promise? :D"_

_"What did I just say? Don't make me turn into a teenage girl with promises and hearts!"_

_"Awwe Bones, you are so cute!"_

_"Are you coming or not?!"_

_"Yup! See you in five!"_

Well, at least the day had one redeeming factor. He would finally get to have a decent meal with the kid, and though he said he wouldn't ask any questions, he sure as hell didn't need verbal output to find out how Jim was holding up. Breakfasts were such a rush affair, he hardly ever had time before he had to leave. And then, that green-blooded hobgoblin would turn up every morning. McCoy was suspicious about that ghost of a smile that would flit across Jim's face then. The kid never smiled much anymore. Not like that for Leonard for sure. Or for anyone really.

 

The glass doors swung open and James T. Kirk in all his glorious charisma came in like a breath of fresh air.

He walked over to McCoy and with a genuine grin on his face asked, "You really love your lab, don't you? I can't think of anything else which makes you all googly eyed."

McCoy fixed him with an appropriate stare and drawled, "Well yeah, doctors don't go around being googly eyed over pointy ears, instead they actually work!"

"Pointy ears?" Jim was truly surprised.

"Never mind that. Do you want to see what I've been up to all these months?"

"Shoot!"

McCoy noticed a change in his young friend immediately. Kirk seemed almost like his old self after a long while. McCoy warmed up to show his lab. Despite his pretense, he did enjoy working on his experiments, and having his own lab at StarFleet had been a major draw for him.

He walked Kirk through all his setup, showed him what they were trying accomplish. Kirk forgot to be flippant and was absorbed in what McCoy was showing him. The kid was interested in almost any and all subjects. And his unrelenting curiosity would take him far, McCoy could see that. As Kirk asked him questions, McCoy felt the tables turn subtly. For a moment Leonard forgot he was the older one, and saw Jim in a new light. Jim's questions and observations were not that of an casual one-time visitor to his lab.

 

They finished rounding up the lab, and came to the last table, where Ruth was still knee deep in saving her failing experiment.

"Jim, this is my assistant Ruth. She is a first year like you. Ruth, this is the infamous Cadet Kirk."

Ruth finally extracted herself from the microscope and looked up at Jim.

"I have heard a lot about you Cadet Kirk. It's a pleasure to finally meet you," she smiled sweetly.

"If I had known Bones was hiding _you_ in his lab, I would never have postponed this trip for so long!"

 

McCoy snorted. Jim was already swooning. Well he couldn't blame the boy exactly. Ruth was a beauty. But more important than that, this was the Jim he knew. He flirted harmlessly, but the last several weeks, he had hardly looked at anyone, let alone flirt.

At Jim's open flirting, Ruth blushed, ducked her head, and hid back in the safety of her microscope.

 

McCoy physically dragged Jim out of the lab before he could babble on anymore.

"Didn't you have Quantum chemistry to catch?" He asked sarcastically but with a fond twinkle in his eyes.

"Oh Shit! Yes!", and Jim was back to reality from his daydreaming and quickened his steps.

 

They had a simple lunch. McCoy asked him about his studies, his weekends, and every possible topic but the incident. Jim seemed to be doing much better. He had apparently hiked with the Vulcan! Of all the people, dear Lord!

"How did you find the green-blooded hobgoblin, Jim? I mean, one day I am sitting there finishing my breakfast, and he just turns up all cool and stiff, and you just-"

Kirk was laughing and cut him off. "He was actually the first person I met here. He is a nice guy Bones, if you get to know him."

"Yeah and that's the problem - he is not a _guy_ \- he is a Vulcan! You don't get to 'know' them Jim!"

"Well, he is as good as any guy, to me. You have to put up with him if you want to put up with me," declared Jim with an easy smile, but his words were earnest with a deeper emotion running through.

"That doesn't leave me much choice, does it now?" McCoy rolled his eyes and Jim chuckled. Leonard observed quietly to himself, that this Spock made Jim smile the kind of smile, which he wanted to see on Jim. Well, whatever the hobgoblin was doing, it was apparently good for the mental health of his genius but crazy young friend.

 

On his way out, Jim popped his head into the lab. Before McCoy could do anything, he yelled cheerfully, "It was _really_ nice meeting you Ruth, see you again!" and then ran away before McCoy got his hands on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character reference, Ruth - "Shore Leave", TOS.


	11. Collaboration

Spock changed from his Cadet uniform to a thick turtleneck sweater and dark blue jeans. The season called fall was upon them. Temperatures had started to dip during daytime to what would be considered frigid on Vulcan. Today was the first study session with Cadet Kirk. He noticed he spent an extra 12 seconds at the mirror perfecting his bangs. He also noticed, that he faced a moment of uncharacteristic indecision when it came time for a jacket. He owned just four and till today he had a perfect algorithm to decide, which to wear, on what day.

 

The algorithm needed to be modified and an extra clause for Cadet Kirk was added. He chose the faux black leather and exited his room.

 

San Francisco was its usual foggy and the evening sun bloomed like a brilliant flower over the horizon. Spock walked briskly and pondered whether he will find the study session intellectually stimulating. In his dealings with humans so far, he frequently found his intellect far exceeded that of his classmates. Spock neither took pride in this fact nor was he disappointed. Vulcans were superior to humans in this aspect and he accepted the simple reality. He went about his life with detachment to such emotions.

 

Right now, however, he was not as detached as he would have preferred. He could already sense, he was finding the simple idea of this study session stimulating in and of itself. _Fascinating!_

 

As he rounded the corner at the end of campus, and turned to walk towards the Science building, he caught sight of a human figure walking further ahead. Spock would know that figure from anywhere in any angle. The man was wearing a white full sleeve shirt, black trousers and he carried a steel grey blazer on his shoulder. Cadet Kirk was universally acknowledged to be "handsome" and some even called him "pretty". Spock had to concur the humans had made the right conclusion.

 

If Spock stared at the back of the man all the way to his destination, noting details like his stride length and the rhythm of his steps, he considered it simply as part of building the private knowledge base, in his brain on the Cadet.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

At the entrance to the building, Kirk swiped his badge and yanked the doors opened, then turned back to see if he needed to hold it for anyone. That's when he caught sight of Spock walking towards him. His face lit up with a grin and he stood there with the door ajar as he waited for Spock to catch up. His grin grew wider when he realized what Spock was wearing. The graceful, strong, tall body came up to Kirk and halted.

 

“Hi Spock!" He greeted with a huge grin, he couldn't wipe off his face.

“Cadet Kirk", Spock nodded with a straight face but his eyes were smiling.

“Ready?" Kirk asked enthusiastically.

Spock inclined his head and followed him into the building.

 

Kirk was excited to be working with Spock on their joint project. As they walked in perfect sync down the long hallway, he explained his idea to Spock. Spock seemed to approve and this made Kirk beam with pride. Not that he needed anyone's validation, but this was Spock  - the brilliant, unattainable, sexy as hell, innocent and beautiful Vulcan scientist.

 

Then Spock started talking, and as he listened to that deep voice, which had hit him the first time, Spock had spoken to him, he realized that Spock was equally excited. He just didn't jump up and down like a 5 year old as Kirk did. Spock launched into a monologue. His eyes had taken on a glow as they did, when Spock seemed excited about a favorite experiment. Kirk found those eyes beyond riveting. He could drown in them...he probably was.

 

 

Two days back, Kirk had submitted his assignment on "Ideas on Intergalactic peace in a Post-Axanar Universe", and had been summoned to Captain Pike's first officer’s office. Kirk liked the officer instantly. She commanded respect with her no nonsense attitude and, though some may find her cold, Kirk had always seen past such exteriors. He had been surprised to find he was not the only one in the room. Spock was standing on one side, his head slightly tilted, as Kirk made his entrance. Kirk's heartbeat had immediately gone up. _Calm down Jim! You see him every morning!_

 

Number One, as she referred to herself, said, “Cadet Spock, Cadet Kirk. I have asked to see you both because of your respective papers on intergalactic peace. Kirk, I will admit I did not expect such high quality work from a first year cadet, but I will be keeping an eye on your henceforth. Spock, you submitted this paper a year ago as part of your first year course, and it wasn't until I read Kirk's paper that, I noticed the possibility. You see, both of you have remarkably similar ideas. I and Captain Pike happen to agree with most. We are, to put it mildly, most impressed. Spock, your paper lacked certain aspects of diplomacy, which is understandable given your Vulcan background. Kirk, yours in turn, could use some logical approach in places. In short, gentlemen, your papers are perfectly complimentary. So, I am assigning you both on a special project. I would like you to work collaboratively and come up with an executable form of your ideas. This is of highest priority. I will free up some of your time from your usual load. Any questions?"

 

They had both nodded and Kirk had replied on both their behalf, “It would be an honor, sir".

"Good! Dismissed Cadets".

 

And so here they were now. Spock in dark blue jeans and in _that_ jacket. Did Spock remember his comment on their first day? _Probably not Jim, Vulcans didn't operate on human frequency after all._

They reached the study room they had reserved and settled in. Spock had come prepared with slides. Of course!

 

Kirk thankfully had his notes ready as well. This was the first time they were working as a team of equals, and in an environment outside of a classroom. It was one thing to hike with Spock, but a different ball game to engage the brilliant mind. Any doubts he had about their compatibility disappeared in first five minutes, when he realized, Spock for all his intelligence, was a remarkably humble being. He spoke factually and logically and again some may find it cold, but Kirk was impressed at the lack of any ego. There was no sense of competition. Kirk had to admit this would have been a factor had he been working with another young human Cadet. Spock was an interesting mix of tremendous wisdom, calm logic, enormous knowledge in multiple disciplines yet he was in many ways painfully honest, unassuming, innocent and sincere.

 

Jim felt a familiar sense of protectiveness for the Vulcan. He was suddenly struck by the idea of Spock serving with other humans after graduation, and found just the thought of it unacceptable. _They wouldn’t understand him. Not the way Jim did._ Also, the thought of separating from Spock, to never see him again, physically pained him, and this took Kirk by surprise. He didn’t realize he had become so deeply attached to his friend. 

 

They had been working for hours now. Kirk had lost track of time, but his back started protesting. Just then, there was a knock on the door.

 

A young Andorian female was peeking through the glass door. Kirk waved her in.

Her antennae bobbed as she spoke quickly to Kirk, while glancing nervously at Spock.

“Hey Kirk! Am I interrupting?"

“No, come on in, we were going to take a break anyways....what's up?" Kirk got up and tried to straighten out the kink in his back.

The Andorian came up to them, and said with a sheepish expression, “I was hoping you could help me out with this assignment. I am almost done, but I am stuck right here", and with that she flipped open her PADD. Kirk took a look and then turned to Spock with an apology, “Sorry Spock. This will only take a few minutes.”

Spock's eyebrow shot up. He replied, “I do not understand. You must take as many minutes as it requires,” and leaned back into his chair to watch.

 

Jim pulled an empty chair close and she sat down. He was soon explaining where she made the wrong assumption which led to the dead end she was at right now. She defended her assumption, and though she spoke fluent Standard English, Jim sensed the subtle disadvantage she had, trying to converse in his native tongue. So Kirk decided he needed to draw it out for her. He always felt comfortable writing things on paper the old fashion way, when it required him to think actively. Pulling a sheet of paper from his stack on the table, he looked for his pen among the mountain of mess, but couldn’t spot it. So he reached over and plucked the pen out of Spock's front pocket.

The female pulled in closer to Kirk, her knees and shoulders touching him, in an attempt to see what he was drawing. It took several minutes, as Kirk tried to get his point across in different ways, sensing how their brains worked differently than humans. Finally, however, understanding dawned on her face and Jim glowed with satisfaction. She was equally excited. Antennae bobbing wildly, she closed her PADD, and then said, "Uhh....I wanted to confirm our time tomorrow?"

"Yep, you are on! See you at 1600 then." Kirk replied with a smile and winked. With a final nervous glance at Spock, she left hurriedly.

Kirk swiveled on his chair with the smile still on his face, to see if Spock approved of his explanation, and froze. The Vulcan had gone white and very still. He was looking down at his hands which were clasped in a knuckle-crushing hold. Kirk’s brain went in overdrive. _What was wrong?_

Only then did Kirk realize what he had done. He had invaded the most valued personal space of a Vulcan. Kirk looked at the pen he was holding and suddenly felt very worried. Had he committed a major blunder - was Spock mad? 

After meeting Spock in early days, Kirk had taken upon himself to learn all he could about Vulcan life, though there was not much information available in StarFleet database. He did, however, know that they detested unnecessary physical contact. Kirk had been very careful about that for the past months with Spock. Technically, he hadn't actually touched Spock's body, but he did come very close to that! On top of that, he had not even asked Spock's permission _. What had possessed you Jim?_ He silently cursed himself.

 

He decided honesty was the best policy. It _was_ an honest mistake.

"Mr. Spock, I am sorry. I wasn't thinking. I should not have taken your pen, not from yourself, not without asking".

Spock twitched a little and then spoke in a calm voice, hands still in death grip. “Apology is unnecessary. I am unaccustomed to such close proximity, however, it is not an inconvenience. May I make a personal query?"

Kirk cocked his head at the familiar question. “Go ahead".

Spock carefully unbent one long finger after another, till he had both his palms spread out on his lean long thighs.

“How are you acquainted with Cadet Valas?" he asked, with eyes locked onto Kirk.

Kirk swallowed under the scrutiny. _Huh? He wants to talk about Valas?_

"Umm....she is in my Basic Hand to Hand Combat class".

“May I enquire the nature of your rendezvous with her?"

Kirk was surprised.

“Nature of?....Oh I see." Kirk bit his lower lip thoughtfully, trying to figure out Spock's train of thoughts. “Spock, would you like to accompany me? It may be easier to explain if you watch".

Spock stiffened at this. After some deliberation, he reluctantly agreed.

 

“Am I forgiven for the pen then? It won't happen again." Kirk finally asked, handing the pen back to Spock, carefully.

Spock made no move to take it back. Instead, he said solemnly, “I would be gratified if you keep it, and you were never in danger of any punishment." He paused and then added softly, “I am aware of your...most humans' need for close proximity. It is my wish to acclimatize."

Kirk's eyes opened wide. He still wasn't sure what had caused Spock to freeze. 

Before he could land himself in any further trouble he picked up his notes and PADD and said, “Good night then Spock. I will see you at 1600 hours tomorrow at the Fountains."

 

With that, he left Spock, and as soon as he was out of his line of sight, he held the unremarkable pen in both his outstretched hands and looked at it with such fondness, that one would think it was the most extraordinary pen ever. Then he brought the pen to his lips, closed his eyes, and kissed it lightly. He knew he was getting himself deeper and deeper into trouble but unable to contain the euphoria bursting inside him, he jumped into air in a triumphant leap, and broke into a run, with the silliest grin on his face.


	12. Spock's concern

It was 1540 San Francisco time and Spock was moving swiftly through the Academy's sprawling grounds. The day was over for most trainees and hordes of them gathered on the grounds socializing and exchanging stories as humans preferred to do. He had agreed to a dubious proposition yesterday when Cadet Kirk had invited him. Spock would never admit to being nervous. He recognized it as futile. However, he would not be entirely honest with himself if he did not acknowledge that there was certain anxiety associated with such an unplanned social encounter.

 

He was nearing the designated meeting place by 1550 and Spock knew he was early. Punctuality was important to him and having extra time factored into one's schedule prevented unforeseen events to disturb it. He was mildly surprised to see Cadet Kirk approaching from the opposite end of the grounds. They met at the Fountains and locked eyes.

 

"How was your day Spock?” Cadet Kirk asked with his customary smile and enthusiasm.

"Adequate." He inclined his head and drew satisfaction at seeing the Cadet chuckle at his response.

"Well mine sucked! I am so looking forward to ..." and here Cadet Kirk paused and a grin spread on his face.

"Where do you think we are going, Spock?"

"I do not have sufficient data to pose a hypothesis."

"I know, I know. I deliberately didn't provide you that data. But take a guess?" Kirk was leaning slightly towards him, eyes alight, face animated.

"Vulcans do not 'guess' , however, if I were to indulge in such a unscientific endeavor, I would propose it involved Cadet Valas and yourself in some social custom."

"Like a date?", asked the human with amusement.

 "It is possible." Spock was not happy with his "guess", clearly the Cadet was enjoying his discomfort.

"And you wanted to be the third wheel?"

Spock frowned internally. He had learnt thousands of human idioms, in multiple Earth languages during his first immersion year. However, now and then, he was still presented with one which made no logical sense.

"I fail to see the relevance of an automobile, further I fail to see the significance of the position of the part in question."

Kirk was now laughing and before Spock was forced to acknowledge to himself how much of that laugh meant to him, Cadet Valas arrived. She was dressed in a loose fitting two piece garment.

 

"Valas, I invited Spock today," said Kirk as he started walking. It was not a question, simply an explanation.

Cadet Valas exhibited all symptoms of discomfort, so Spock positioned himself on right of Kirk, to give the Andorian some space.

Walking between them Kirk said, "All right, let's go then!"

 

He led them to the area at the back of buildings which dotted the grounds in a loosely semicircular fashion. There was open ground here, divided in sections, several of which served as recreational playgrounds. Some Cadets could be seen engaging in various sports as they walked towards the area. They approached a group of cadets who had clustered besides one such sand filled field. Spock noticed they all wore loose garments in the fashion of Cadet Valas’s clothing.

 

Once they reached the group, Cadet Kirk greeted them loudly, "Hey guys! Please start warming up, I will change in a second and join you."

The group dispersed into the field and started running laps. Kirk put his bag which he had been carrying on the ground and pulled out a shirt similar to the style of others. He swiftly took off this uniform upper tunic and put the shirt on. With a grin to Spock, he turned around and marched into the field and joined the others in warm up.

 

So this was not a "date". Spock realized he was relieved. His anxiety had disappeared though he was still unclear why Cadet Kirk had winked at the Andorian female yesterday – in turn invoking an unfamiliar reaction in him.

 

After several minutes, Kirk called out. "All right team, today we will practice the move Knife Hand. I need a volunteer! "

Two young men raised hands and Kirk chose one. They sparred and Kirk demonstrated several moves, pausing each time and pointing out the various technicalities. Once he was done, he broke them up in pairs and went around each pair suggesting corrections and encouraging those who were struggling.

 

Spock's eyebrows rose up. This was unexpected and admirable. The young cadet was a natural leader and he had taken upon himself to teach his fellow trainees advanced moves. He was himself a highly accomplished fighter Spock observed.

 

The cadet stood to one side as he watched his peers. Spock took off his uniform tunic and stepped into the field dressed in his black thermal undershirt.

"It seems you need a partner", he offered.

The human was taken aback for a moment before recovering.

 “Why Spock, I didn't know you were interested in hand to hand combat."

"Vulcans are nonviolent but we _are_ trained extensively in several techniques of martial art."

The bright eyes lit up and Kirk stepped in front of Spock.

 

Spock tackled the Cadet carefully, aware of his superior strength, and keeping his hands away from the human's bare skin. What the Cadet lacked in strength he made up in agility and untraditional moves. Spock was confounded by the unorthodox style of combat but he was never under any threat of a serious defeat. As they went at each other and jumped back again and again in a graceful but aggressive dance, Spock noticed through peripheral vision that the others had stopped and started watching them. After several minutes Spock managed to subdue Kirk and pin him on the soft sand under their feet. He wanted to invoke the traditional Vulcan surrender procedure but it would not be appropriate so he let go of Kirk and walked silently back to where his uniform lay neatly folded.

 

"That was a-m-a-z-i-n-g! " Kirk was panting and sweating but he did not appear perturbed by Spock's manhandling.

The murmur of voices rising from rest of them agreed.

" Well team, now we have someone who can hand me my ass, which means I get to learn more and _you_ get to work harder! " He spoke as he walked over to his bag and pulled out a towel and started wiping his face. Several of the others were doing the same and drinking water. The "date" seemed to have concluded.

 

"Good work everyone! " Kirk clapped his hands once, "see you next week, same time, same place!"

 

Kirk turned to Spock and looked at him with scrutinizing eyes. Spock looked back and held the gaze. 

"Another one added to the list", Kirk murmured finally and when Spock raised an eyebrow to ask for explanation Kirk simply smiled, waved his hands and turned back to change his sweat soaked shirt. The human had appealing musculature Spock allowed himself as Kirk's back was exposed for a second.

 

"What did you think of that Spock?" Kirk asked, back in his red uniform and bag slung over his shoulders.

They started walking back, their steps in sync.

"I admit it was unexpected. May I enquire as to the purpose of this exercise?"

"There is a guy who has been harassing some first years. Nothing major but it's still a pain."

"I was not aware of this. Has he been 'harassing' you as well?"

"Yeah, I have been his prime target but there have been others. All these people you saw today have been his victims. At first, I though it's just me. I can handle myself but then Valas confided in me one day and she was really upset. We found out about others once I started asking around. It's just been few times really but I want them to learn how to defend themselves." Kirk was serious and thoughtful, his eyes distant.

 

"This is most unpleasant news." Spock commented. He was indeed not happy to learn Cadet Kirk was being subjected to such stress.

"Oh it's nothing that bad. Really it isn't! Mostly it's practical jokes."

"A most unique human concept, Cadet Kirk." Spock replied in a cool voice. He could not find humor in the situation.

"You are probably right." Kirk gave a small smile and then continued, "To be honest, I think it's going beyond jokes now. It’s progressively getting worse. I don't want to report him yet because that would mean disciplinary action and probably end of his career. I am hoping he would use common sense."

"May I enquire to the perpetrator's identity?"

"Would you report him, Spock?"

"I may, yes. I remind you that I am also an instructor and it is my duty to make sure the environment is safe for everyone."

Kirk sighed.

"Give me a few days. I don't want to make this official. He is probably a good guy…probably even make a good officer. I am just not sure if he is being funny or is he really a jerk."

"Your generosity is admirable under the circumstances."

At that Kirk's lips twisted into a half smile, and he commented, "I know I am just a lowly first year but I care about StarFleet and I care about each Cadet, even those who may be little... _misguided_."

"I will respect your decision then. However, I have to remind you of the incident involving your former roommate and I am concerned about your safety" Spock finished.

 

Kirk was immediately serious. His face lost all traces of smile and he breathed deeply. Spock had suspected that Kirk was still suffering from the emotional trauma of the attack and he now saw he was right.

"That was different, Spock. That wasn't someone playing practical joke. It was-" Kirk abruptly stopped. He started to walk faster in an attempt to avoid the conversation.

 

 

" _Jim_." It was the first time Spock had used the Cadet's first name.

Jim stopped and looked up with troubled eyes. There was pain there. And surprise at his name being used. And something more.

Cadet Kirk visibly struggled for several minutes as an obvious internal monologue played out inside him.

 

"I am sorry Spock. I can't talk about this. I _want_ to, but I can't." He replied in a low defeated voice and Spock felt intense discomfort at the human's tone.

 

They looked at each other, both sensing the other's pain and Spock realized he didn't need telepathy to read Jim's emotions. This human opened up to Spock and Spock could read every subtle play on his face. His own eyes reflected back his internal state. Jim's troubles were no more separate from his own. Whatever bothered the remarkable human being, Spock was now invested as well. Maybe this is what humans called friendship. If so, he could see the allure of it.

 

"I will not violate your privacy. However, the matter of your safety cannot be ignored."

"I have learnt my lesson hopefully. I have changed the code on my room keypad. I am always alert about my surrounding -in my room, out of it, in classes, all day. Ivanov was a child, Spock. I am not a stranger to violence. I can defend myself as you saw."

Spock nodded. "Perhaps, you will allow me to improve your skills then. You are an accomplished fighter unlike most humans your age. Being a Vulcan, I have superior strength and I can prove to be a worthy teacher by virtue of my training."

Jim finally relaxed into a smile. Spock felt a warmth spread through himself.

 

"Mr. Spock! I would be absolutely honored to have my ass handed to me on a regular basis!" And the human bowed deeply in an exaggerated fashion.


	13. Persistence

Jim woke up with his head hurting and his whole body felt heavy like a log. _What the hell?_ He couldn't think of any reason why he would feel this way. He had been absolutely fine yesterday which was Federation Day; there were various celebratory activities all day. Kirk had enjoyed the rare holiday with his fellow class mates and in the evening there had been a huge gala where Jim had danced and laughed with his friends till late night. McCoy had at first rolled his eyes at Kirk's enthusiasm but by eleven at night even he had loosened up and joined Ruth and Jim on the dance floor. The best part was StarFleet had gone all out and served _real_ food except alcohol of course - though truth be told the food synthesizers were the state of the art and did a fantastic job so Jim never really thought much of it on a daily basis - but there was something psychologically satisfying about knowing one was eating real food. So they had danced, laughed, sang and eaten their way well past midnight. He had a fantastic time with Ruth who was a vision to behold in a lovely pale dress. The one person conspicuously absent had been Spock. Jim had missed his friend. A lot.

 

He got up from his bed and thought of raising Bones but changed his mind - McCoy was probably sleeping in - as was almost everyone. In honor of Federation Day they had been given an extra two days off - today and tomorrow and then it was Sunday. He had overheard a few of his classmates planning to use the opportunity to go on overnight trips outside bay area. Jim had immediately started on planning his own trip – McCoy remorsefully declined citing his family commitment and failing marriage – but Jim was hoping he could persuade Spock to join him on a two night’s getaway to the nearby Mendocino Coast. It was supposed to be a scenic drive along California's Pacific coastline offering beaches, historic lighthouses, old-time fishing villages and gorgeous hiking trails. He had booked a small inn and was really looking forward to showing Spock life outside the Academy.

 

It had been uncharacteristically warm last couple of days and today was the warmest day Kirk had so far experienced. His room weather control system declared the temperature a balmy 37 deg Celsius with no breeze and with the added humidity the "feels like" temperature was 42 degrees! But it was supposed to cool down by mid-day after heavy rains to a perfect 23 deg Celsius. All this Jim had been planning since last couple weeks - since he came to know about the impending holidays. So there was no way he was going to sleep in.

 

He convinced himself he was just a little sleep deprived and will be fine as soon as he had ran and eaten something.

 

In slow motion, Jim dressed in a half-sleeve shirt and shorts and hooked a water bottle to his waist belt. Outside the grounds were absolutely deserted, even the grounds keeper whom Jim waved every morning was nowhere to be seen. Jim sighed to himself as he broke into a jog - would Spock even notice the lengths to which he was going to keep up his morning appointment.

 

Within ten minutes but he was feeling the claustrophobic heat and sweat started running down his body in rivulets. He reached the foot of the hill and flopped down unceremoniously on the grass under the canopy of trees. His body still seemed keen on hanging onto the weird symptoms.

 

When Spock appeared and Jim noticed his attire he congratulated himself on his own persistence. The upside to this heat was that Spock had ditched his multilayer clothing and Jim realized that he had never seen Spock without a turtleneck undershirt or a sweater till today- the sight of a long exposed neck was reward enough for Jim for the shit he was putting himself through. Spock came over where Jim was working on getting himself from horizontal to vertical position.

 

“Good morning!” Jim put on his best smile.

“Are you unwell?” Spock wasn't fooled.

“Just after effects of yesterday's late night. The fresh air and run should help."

“Perhaps you should have utilized the holiday to obtain rest as your fellow trainees are all engaged in currently."

_And miss seeing you?_ Jim thought.

“I wanted to talk to you about something." Kirk tried to switch the topic.

The small dent in Spock's forehead remained which was the only indication that Spock was not distracted. Dark eyes looked at him with concern.

Jim stood up and said “Let’s go. I will tell you over breakfast. I need the energy to sell my case."

" Sell your case?" An eyebrow rose up.

" Uh-hmm" was all Kirk said because he really felt the need to get some glucose into his system.

 

Kirk could feel the burn in his thighs as he kept pace with Spock, who true to his word, had been slowly but surely increasing his speed every few days. Today it looked he like he had taken it up one notch again - _Until you reach you human limits_ , _was what Spock had said._ Well, Jim was not sure how much more his body could give - he wasn't at his limit yet - as in he wasn't keeling over - but he was very close! It took all his effort to keep up and sheer willpower kept him going. Kirk stole a quick glance sideways. Spock was infuriatingly cool and coasting along looking all serene and breathtaking in the morning soft light. Not even a sheen of sweat on his face!

 

Kirk tried to remind himself, that though Spock _looked_ like him he wasn't really a human inside, heck if his heart was at his side, was it so hard to believe that his lungs and muscles were built with a capacity far beyond Kirk's? That's what he repeated in his head over and over again - but when you are not even 20 years old it's hard to accept your best performance won't impress the one you are trying to impress.

 

He had to admit though that this idea of running together had turned out to be fantastic training and if he thought he was already a good runner before, now his confidence had sky rocketed. Kirk was sure he was in the top one percent of all the runners currently in the Academy and from a combat point of view, his increasing endurance could make all the difference in a real life mission crisis. He had not dared to ask Spock why the Vulcan had asked to join him in these runs- somethings were best left unanswered. But if Jim had harbored any hopes of striking up conversation with Spock and using these mornings to know his friend better it was clear from the day one that conversation would not be physically possible.

 

So Kirk had contented himself with stolen glances at the tall figure and concentrated on not bursting his lungs but today was testing his true limits - the burn was now all along his legs and every second became a battle. He dug deep and imagined he was the Captain on a mission on some far planet where his ship had crashed and his crew was depending on him to get back with some lifesaving supplies. Shutting off all outside noise Kirk channeled all his mental energy on his imagination -he was running to save their lives and he couldn't let his crew down.

 

With just five minutes remaining before they would have reached the end of the trail Kirk's body mutinied and his left leg started going into painful cramps. Kirk groaned with the sharp pain, his steps faltered and he went down on his knees unable to stop the spasms shooting through him.

 

"Jim!!" alarm betrayed a usually even voice.

 

Kirk's whole focus zeroed in on getting himself back up. He didn't have the strength to reply to Spock but he was not going to stop - not when his crew needed him. So, with another groan he pushed himself up and started running again but the cramps made it impossible and he was now lurching erratically - moving sideways and forward.

 

Cool fingers closed on his forearm - and gently tugged him - but Kirk just shook his head and all he could see, all he could think and all he would let himself feel was reaching that finish line.

 

"Jim!! Cease this useless endeavor at once!" Spock's voice was urgent and broke through his brain fog.

 

_No! No! I won't give up! James T. Kirk will die before giving up on his crew._

 

He was almost within reach now - the academy's orange brick inlaid pathway starting where the dirt trail ended - their unofficial finish line but Jim's body again gave up. Every muscle screaming in his legs, his lungs threatening to give up and his vision darkening on the edges Jim started crawling on all fours. Spock was saying something, all calmness gone from the Vulcan’s voice, but Jim's blood was roaring in his ears and he couldn't hear anything. Dragging his body, inch by inch, he kept going till he touched the finish line and collapsed.

 


	14. Touch

Spock had not known such fear except the rare times when Amanda fell gravely ill, and even then, he had always been surrounded by the presence of his father and family, and the reassurance in the knowledge of Vulcan healers. He wrestled with his fractured controls, as he saw his human fall abruptly, and then in an alarming fashion, continued to move as if driven by unseen forces outside his body. Jim's face was flushed red, the capillaries in his eyes red, the trickle of blood from his nose red - and Spock started seeing red too. In a moment of pure instinct, Spock reached out and held Jim's forearm, in an attempt to stop Jim from his insanity - the bare skin damp with sweat - and instantly recoiled from the intense emotions transmitted through the touch.

 

Spock couldn't read thoughts through touch alone, but the tenor of emotions, especially if strong, came across clearly, and in that single second, Spock was overwhelmed with Kirk's emotions - they were so explosive that Spock was stunned. He sensed a mix of blinding pain and equally strong determination, the latter laced with secondary emotions of sacrifice and utter devotion. Spock couldn't make any sense of these feelings emanating from Kirk. All he saw was the human, who had already been looking pale and unwell since they began running, was now in the midst of full body convulsions, with shallow breathing. His body seemed to be shutting down, but to Spock's complete horror, Kirk would not stop.

 

Spock's words were having no effect, so he braced himself for the assault of emotions, as he was about to physically stop Kirk - who had started crawling now - when the cadet finally collapsed. Spock immediately turned him over and with one hand started taking his pulse, while with the other, he opened his communicator and raised Dr. McCoy. One part of his brain calculating the vitals he was observing, and the other part processing the emotions leaching through the touch. This was not the first time Spock had touched a human. He had been residing here for two years now, and engaged in various required activities including hand to hand combat, as well as numerous handshakes as custom demanded. Never before had touching another person's skin produced such jarring effect on his system.

 

"Get him here at once," was the last bark from Dr. McCoy before Spock put away his comm. Kirk was absolutely still now, eyes closed, his breathing so shallow and slow that he appeared almost not breathing at all. Spock moved swiftly and without any more preamble, scooped up the precious cargo in his arms, and ran through the buildings straight to the on-campus hospital and medical research facility. At the entrance, the guard was waiting with the door unlocked, and behind him Spock saw Dr. McCoy and a human female with a stretcher. Spock lay down Kirk gently on the stretcher and then they were all running down the corridor with the female steering the anti-grav stretcher, while Dr. McCoy was already administering hypos. They swung into a room and Kirk was transferred to the bio bed. Dr. McCoy and - Spock read the name tag of the female - a Ms. Ruth Bonne started hooking up various life support systems. A team of nurses were already waiting armed with various tricorders and hypos. For next several minutes, the flurry of activity was all Spock could focus on, punctuated by Dr. McCoy's sharp orders. Spock had extensive knowledge of human physiology, and the vitals he had gathered in the few seconds it had taken to contact the doctor - pulse, breathing rate, skin temperature - had all indicated the body of James T. Kirk was dying. A nurse started to strip him out of his blood, dirt, and sweat soaked clothes, and Spock directed his gaze to the monitors instead.

 

Standing rigidly in a corner of the room, his fingers curled into fists at his sides, he battled with himself as he watched the medics battle to save the human being who had become central to Spock's existence. Time seemed to stretch on illogically - each second more like eons - but at last Dr. McCoy straightened up and the nurses left the room collecting blood soaked tissues and empty hypos. Ms. Ruth turned to Spock and addressed him, “He is stable now. He is still in critical condition but out of danger." Spock was deeply grateful to the perceptive female. It was then that Dr. McCoy focused on Spock, and immediately started firing thousand simultaneous questions, with an expression of violence on his face.

 

"What the hell happened? He almost died Spock? His heart stopped and his organs failed ...." he took a deep shaky breath and as he exhaled, the Doctor seemed to lose all air and deflated. With a look of pain he whispered, " I...I lost him for several seconds there...the bastard fought back though...stubborn like always."

 

Spock cautiously walked towards the bio-bed, his restraints stretched to the limits by the combined influx of Jim's emotions and the Doctor's.

"What was the cause?" his voice came out low and thick.

"I don't know yet. My readings show massive paralysis and multi-organ failure which caused the heart to stop beating but it’s not consistent with any known cause I can think of. Jim has a very healthy physique. I saw him just yesterday and so did Ruth - he was as healthy as a horse. We are taking samples and will run tests."

Ms. Bonne finished taking samples and they both started leaving the room but Spock didn't move. When McCoy looked up questioningly, Spock asked, "May I remain?"

"You don't have to, his vitals are all hooked up to the machine and I will get paged direct if anything changes at all, plus the nurses are monitoring him remotely."

"I will not interfere with your care Doctor, I merely wish to remain and observe."

"By all means Spock, but he won't wake up for few hours at least. I will get you when I have something from the tests."

 

Left alone at last, the only sound in the room the beeps from the various machines and the cadet's regular breathing, Spock let his guards down. He was exhausted. Spock moved to the side of the bio bed and stood looking down for a long time, while his mind processed the deep emotions which had laid dormant in his Vulcan brain till today.

Then he slowly extended a hand tentatively, the gesture born out of a new desire yet foreign to him, and lightly smoothed the blonde hair he so cherished.

 

At the touch Spock felt the electric charge like sensation again, and this time he was not stunned, though still perplexed. His mind had started forming a hypothesis as to why he had been drawn to Jim from the very first moment his eyes had found him and now this bizarre reaction at physical contact. He filed away the hypothesis to be revisited later. He focused on the various numbers displayed on the monitors and was reassured to see Dr. McCoy was right - his human was indeed out of critical condition and even as he watched, the numbers steadily climbed, indicating rapid progress.

 

Spock released a breath he didn't know he was holding and finally relaxed from his rigid pose. He had an urge to go to the lab and assist the Doctor in testing - Spock was reasonably sure this was a premeditated action by someone - but the urge to remain besides Jim - _his Jim_ \- won out. He pulled a chair close to the bed and sat down, his fingers in a steeple in front of him, elbows resting on his knees, as he tried to put together all the information he had.

 

After two hours, Ms. Bonne came in to check on her patient. She smiled sweetly at Spock who softened his face and nodded at her; she expertly checked the various machine readings and ran her tricorder over Jim. Satisfied with her patient's recovery, she turned to Spock and asked in a warm but calm voice "You must be Instructor Spock, Sir. I am Ruth, a first year like Kirk and I work with Dr. McCoy in his lab."

"You are correct, I am Spock.”

"I do not mean to patronize you Sir, but you probably missed breakfast; we have a small cafe in the building here, you will find Vulcan choices programmed in the synthesizers." she spoke with the same calm voice.

Spock noted the obvious physical beauty - blonde hair, petite body, large steel grey eyes - but encapsulating all that was a highly intelligent, perceptive and mature young woman.

"It is not patronizing, on the contrary I am grateful for the attention you have showed me. Vulcans however do not require sustenance like humans and we can go for long periods without it. I prefer to remain here."

"I understand. Would you like anything else?"

"I am curious about what you and the doctor have found so far?"

"Ahhh...yes." She looked at Kirk with a gentle look on her face and continued "His blood shows trace amount of foreign substances. We have been able to identify only one of them till now - a form of slow release neural paralyzer. Most neural paralyzers cause a cessation of detectable heartbeat and respiration in a humanoid patient, creating the appearance of death but can be treated successfully if the patient is brought to medical care in time. This particular drug does not show up on our databases so it is not only illegally obtained but must be from a star system outside Federation membership. The compound seems to have been administered not more than 6 hours ago given the rate of its decomposition."

Spock rested his chin on his steepled fingers and replied "Evidence so far points to an attempt on Cadet Kirk's life made sometime last night."

"Yes, I have been thinking the same though I can't fathom why someone would want to hurt him. But in my profession, I have come across numerous times when the human mind is able to conceive deadly acts, sometimes for no reason at all."

"Indeed." Spock nodded and then added, "What is your field of study Ms. Bonne?"

"Please call me Ruth. I am in the medical research track, specializing in space humanoid neuropsychology and neural grafting."

"You will make a most adequate scientist."

She smiled sweetly, "Coming from you that is high praise, thank you Sir." Spock returned the smile with his eyes. Any well-wisher of Jim, was by default, in Spock's list of approved acquaintances.

 

They both looked at their charge and after a few moments, Ruth spoke again softly, "Thank you also for him." Taking her eyes off Kirk, she continued, "Had it not been for you I don't want to think what would have happened."

"I believe the paralyzer was designed to slow release so that he would have slowly died in his sleep and this attempt was timed precisely when the whole Academy was busy till late night. Which meant that today morning absences would not have been unusual and any chance of help and medical intervention would have been conveniently delayed till it was too late. A well thought-out plan."

The young cadet looked troubled but she did not react in any overt way like the Doctor would have.

"I am worried about his safety. If this person or persons are truly after his life, they will attempt again."

"It is a reasonable assumption." Spock replied in an even tone, taking great comfort in being able to discuss this matter-of-factly with someone who seemed to be equally worried about Kirk but capable of rational thought process. For all the harmful elements Kirk seemed to have attracted, thankfully he had also managed to gain the loyalty of competent and compassionate people like Ms. Bonne and Dr. McCoy.

 

"I must go back to the lab." She looked up once more at the monitors by Kirk's head and said "He will be waking up soon. I want to finish our testing by then."

 

Spock was once again alonem and he was deeply disturbed by the new knowledge shared by Ruth. He settled into a light meditation, keeping his eyes locked on the white bed sheet covered form.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

He felt a soft material on his body and soft beeping noises, before he realized his eyes were closed. Jim breathed deeply, and for a minute tried to get his bearing, taking stock of the various aches and pains coming from every part of his body. His memory cleared slowly and he was relieved to notice there was no pain in his legs anymore. His headache was gone as well and he felt overall healthy - just a slight vague feeling of being run over by an elephant.

 

Simultaneously, he sensed someone's presence next to him, and without any explanation, he instinctively knew who it was. This made him smile, and so, when he opened his eyes finally, it was to see Spock's face looking at him over long fingers joined in a thoughtful pose.

"Hey," Jim croaked.

No reply just an intense scrutinizing look.

Jim wiggled his toes and fingers and tried to lift his head. That produced an immediate reaction. "Do not attempt any movements. Dr. McCoy is no doubt on his way here and I would not want to be the object of his wrath for failing my duties."

"I am your duty?" Jim challenged with a smile.

"The word will suffice for now."

 

Jim looked at Spock unable to hide his feelings - moisture seeping onto his eyes. He wasn't sure what the hell had happened and he was sure Bones was about to let him know that in colorful language but for now Jim felt such comfort and gratitude for the Vulcan that he was overwhelmed.

"Spock," Jim said softly "Thank you."

"Circumstances proved to be favorable. I was simply with you at the right moment."

"Vulcans don't do thanks, do they?" Jim chuckled but Spock’s response made the moment lighter and he blinked back his tears successfully.

Spock ignored his attempt at humor and continued in the grave tone, "I must admit my initial comment about your decision to not rest today morning was unfortunate, I now stand corrected and am gratified you chose that particular course of action."

"Oh?" Jim was surprised. He couldn't recall Spock ever being wrong about anything so far!

 

"I am curious about the subject you wished to discuss," Spock asked.

Jim was suddenly alert "Damn! What time is it...don't tell me I have been out for a whole day or something."

"Fortunately not. You have been unconscious for 6 hours 12 minutes and 38 seconds."

 

Before he could comment on the preciseness of Spock's reply a blur of clothes shot past through the door and he _heard_ Bones before he saw him properly.

"God dammit man! Is this how I get to spend the first holiday we have got since the year started?"

Jim felt genuinely guilty though he knew McCoy was simply pulling his leg. He replied in embarrassment, "Sorry Bones. This was definitely not how I was planning to spend it. I have no clue how I am in your med bay under _your_ supervision." His eyes fell on the figure behind McCoy and he flashed a grin at Ruth. He sat up and no one protested.

No one returned his smile either, instead three pair of eyes silently looked at him, in various degrees of concern and exasperation.

 

 _Not one but a whole pack of mother hens,_ Jim thought to himself. _And humorless ones at that._

 

"First that kid Ivanov and now you - I don't need any more of you turning up all blue and dying." Bones muttered waving his tricorder all over Jim.

 

 _"_ Don't look at me like I did something Bones! I did not…" Jim said defensively and then added hesitantly "at least I don't think I did anything...."

Spock spoke up, "You did not. Doctor, will you please cease your accusations and explain your conclusion."

 

Throwing a murderous glance at Spock, McCoy explained the neuroparalyzer he had found in his blood, it’s illegal and lethal use and how lucky he was that Spock had been able to bring him here.

Jim's eyes were wide. He instantly forgave his friends for the seriousness.

_He had been poisoned?!!!!!_

"So you are saying I ate something  ...or drank something last night at the party which had been tweaked?"  Jim was not happy.

"That would seem so. Though we can't be 100% sure that it was you, who was the target. I mean it was a mad house last night. Maybe you picked up someone else’s glass?" the doctor speculated.

No, Jim was _sure_ he had been the intended victim. But he didn't say anything aloud.

 

"So what's my prognosis now?"

"You will make a full recovery within two days. All you need is rest but otherwise there is no permanent damage." and Bones proceeded to unhook him from all the machines.

"How much rest are we talking about?"

"Jim! You just died few hours ago! Give your body some credit!"

Ruth spoke up for the first time. "If you engage in any vigorous activity your body will over heat and you risk suffering another breakdown. So no running, hiking, lifting heavy etc...and no sex."

 

Jim grinned.

"Do I have to be chained to this bed?" was his next question.

McCoy raised an eyebrow but replied "No, there is no need for you to be _chained_. I can fit you with a remote tracker and you can recuperate in your own room."

 

Jim shifted his weight and flushed slightly. "Actually I was hoping to check out this place not far away from here. I had it all planned out, you know. I want to still be able to go." McCoy started saying something but Jim raised his hands, "I won't be doing any hiking or anything stupid.I promise!"

Bones shook his head, "Sorry kiddo, your room is one thing, but I can't let you be on your own outside the grounds. If something goes wrong, you won't be able to get help."

 

Jim blushed deeper, "Well...actually I wasn't planning to go alone...I didn't get the chance...I was planning in the morning to bring it up but then ... _this_ happened." He looked at Spock finally, not daring to ask in front of others, but cornered into the situation.

 

"I will accompany him Doctor," Spock spoke smoothly.

Both Ruth and McCoy looked surprised, but they quickly composed themselves. "Ummm...okay...I guess that will be fine. I will get you a tracker, Jim. Spock, you have my number already. Oh....Jim, there will an officer coming to take your testimony. We had to report the drug. It’s illegal. Sorry."

 

"That's okay Bones,thanks for saving my life," Jim squeezed his friend's arm affectionately.

 

Bones grunted, “Ruth and I will see you at the cafe then. I am not releasing you until you eat something for lunch."

Jim nodded obediently.

"Spock? You joining us?" McCoy asked a little unsure.

"I will accompany Cadet Kirk to the cafeteria after the officer's visit."

"He hasn't left your side for one second the entire morning Jim. Who knew Vulcans made such good babysitters," McCoy rolled his eyes and then stormed out.

 

Jim looked down at his hands, aware that he had put Spock on the spot, and the Vulcan had been given no choice, but agree to babysit him. Both in the morning when he collapsed, and now, for the overnight trip. He was embarrassed and there was no taking back his words either. Spock was silent.

A nurse came in with the remote tracker and affixed it to his ankle.

 

Officer Mendez was a dark haired rugged looking man. He recorded everything, as Kirk tried to recollect his actions, and whereabouts, in the past 24 hours. It had been an unusual day because of Federation Day and he had come in contact with many unknown faces, and in the night, he had decided to let go and enjoy himself. As a result, he didn't really remember much except, that he mainly hung out with his friends, Bones and Ruth. Mendez took down all of his friends' names - his sparring group basically - and Jim felt guilty at inconveniencing everyone. His mood soured at this thought. When the Officer left, he slowly got up from the bio bed, testing his balance and strength.

 

"You are distressed." Spock said in his deep baritone.

Jim just sighed. He was having a mini pity party and had no intention of letting Spock know.

Jim was dressed in med bay clothes he realized - which weren't bad - a loose fitting long sleeved white shirt and matching white pants, but he did wonder about the part of Spock not leaving his side for a single second. He had the worst luck when it came to Spock - either he was burping, or collapsing, or being poisoned, or being changed like a baby. _Just great! No wonder Spock considered it his duty to babysit him._

"Jim?" Spock had closed the gap to where Jim was standing and was in his private space now.

 

"I don't want you to _have_ to take care of me, Spock. I wasn't planning to put you on spot like that. The trip was the subject, I told you today morning, I wanted to talk to you about. We can cancel it. As I said, it wasn't meant to be shoved down your throat."

"I have desired to experience terran customs, flora, fauna, and life outside Academy for the past two years. I would not be happy to cancel it, but if you so wish, I will not object. However, please understand, no matter what you choose to do for the next three days, I do not plan to leave your side."  Spock spoke in a low voice.

Jim looked up at these words - his eyes round with surprise at the certainty with which Spock had declared his intentions - and shivered at Spock's proximity and the Vulcan's refusal to indulge Jim in his self-pity. Spock was looking at him with searing intensity and Jim immediately dropped his gaze.

His brain stopped working as the moment lingered on, Spock standing so near him, that Jim struggled to control his urge to reach out.

"Do you wish me to leave you side?" cool air blew across Jim's face, as the words made him feel hot. _Seriously Jim! Calm down!_

Jim wanted to reply "Never" but simply shook his head instead. His comm chirped just then, and the moment was broken, before Jim did anything stupid. Spock immediately took a step away, and stood with his hands folded behind his back.

 

It was Bones. "I am running out of patience here, what's taking you so long?!"

_Good old Bones._

 

Jim smiled and told Spock, "Bones may put me back in the bio bed unless we show up soon."

"That would not be....desirable."

"No, not at all," laughed Kirk and started walking with a slow but steady gait, and Spock followed by his side matching Kirk's pace.

 


	15. Preparations

Spock followed Jim to the modest sized cafeteria in the medical building. Several of the patients, judging by their hospital-issued white garments, in various stages of recovery, could be seen partaking in mid-day meal. Spock noticed the distinct lack of social conversation among most of them - there was an air of aloofness and loneliness that Spock had never seen in other areas of the Academy. Food choices at the synthesizers were different as well - to Spock's pleasant surprise, there were several vegetarian choices along with mandatory servings of vegetables with the meat choices- but judging by Kirk's expression, these options were not the most well received. Spock chose a terran soup while Kirk grudgingly chose a meal of grilled chicken sandwich, which came with beans soup and fresh fruits. Medical staffs like Dr. McCoy, in their Starfleet issued uniforms, stood out among the all-whites and were easy to spot; both of them headed to the table where the Doctor and his assistant were seated.

 

During the walk to cafeteria and meal selection, Spock had formed a plan in his mind. Upon reaching the table, he let McCoy interrogate Kirk about the conditions which landed him in med bay, while Spock attended to his soup with speed. He was done within five minutes.

Addressing the doctor, he said, "I will need to go to my room to prepare for the trip. If you can assure me of remaining by Cadet Kirk's side, while I complete my preparations, I would be gratified. I will need fifteen minutes. No more."

"In case you have forgotten, he is _my_ patient first! Of course, I can and will take care of him!" The doctor replied with customary chagrin.

Spock briefly considered asking, if the doctor was aware of a state of mind, which was not extreme agitation or extreme distress, but in the interest of expediency dropped the idea. He nodded and swiftly rose from the table with his empty food tray, and while he was disposing off the remains in the recycle and compost bins, heard Kirk complain, "Whoa! What's this? Are you all planning on keeping up with this around the clock vigilance on me?"

The last Spock's superior hearing picked up as he exited the cafeteria was, the doctor's reply, "No one asked your opinion kid, that’s right, you have no choice!"

 

Spock walked in a brisk manner, which was equivalent to a human's jog, to the officers' quarters at the south of the campus. Once in his apartment, it took him precisely 3 minutes 45 seconds to pack an overnight bag with the essentials. Spock lived a Spartan life - a product of beginning life anew on a planet and having inherited nothing from his Vulcan family. The only items he had brought from his home world, were a meditation mat, few Vulcan books from his personal collection, and few traditional Vulcan robes. He had needed to learn from scratch and adapt to everything terran, from the material of his bed sheets to the toiletries, from the cooking utensils and spices to the Earth candles he used during relaxation periods. His apartment looked bare, not because he mourned the loss of his familial home and his childhood room, which had housed a rich variety of artifacts, but because he had not yet learnt the art of decorating using the unfamiliar terran items. He spent an additional minute changing into non-StarFleet clothing and then headed back to the medical building.

 

Kirk was waiting outside the building with McCoy, both of them engaged in animated discussion, but as soon as they spotted Spock, the "discussion" ceased, causing Spock to speculate he may have been the subject of their conversation. 

"Satisfied, gentlemen? Am I free to walk now?" Cadet Kirk looked severely unhappy at the arrangement.

"Off you go....I want daily updates and don't you dare make me come back because you managed to trip over a pebble or something ...Jocelyn won't be happy to put it mildly," the doctor ordered Kirk.

"Have fun Bones, enjoy the break!"

"Fun?...yeah right. Mr. Spock - he _must_ rest! Consider this a medical leave not vacation," was the last caustic comment from the doctor.

 

Walking towards the first years' building, Spock scrutinized Kirk for any signs of fatigue or ailment, but he looked no worse than on any regular day. The only remnants of the morning’s event were a perceptibly slower speed with which he walked and slight dimming of those bright eyes. The other visible scarring and damages had been removed by the doctor and his team.

"So Spock, did you have any questions about this plan of mine?" Kirk asked with a smile which touched his eyes.

"I have several questions actually. I will start with the name of our destination and its significance."

"Good choice! It’s a small place called Mendocino. I have never been there myself but the description sounded perfect. It has gorgeous hikes, which is out of picture now. It’s on the coast with miles of pristine beach, lakes and rivers, mountains and forests. There is kayaking, wine tasting, centuries old light houses and my favorite is the ancient transportation system called a steam-locomotive." As he spoke, Kirk became visibly energized, and Spock found he was unable to resist the keen interest he himself experienced.

They were at Kirk's room and Spock noticed the extra security protocol at the door keypad. He had stood at this spot on the first day of the year, but he had never been inside Kirk's room. Spock was suddenly unsure about human etiquette in such circumstances. On Vulcan, entering one's personal quarters was limited to the immediate family and even then, one did not simply visit without prior understanding. So, Spock stood at the door, with one hand on the strap of his overnight bag, and the other tucked in his jean's pockets, for lack of a better option.

 

Kirk was still talking about the seemingly endless activities they could enjoy at their intended destination, and pulled out an interesting looking bag with multiple openings and closures, and flung it on the single bed. At that moment, he finally noticed Spock and stopped speaking mid-sentence with a look of confusion on his face. Then he asked, "What's the matter? Does something stink?"

Spock suppressed an internal sigh. Humans seemed to add an extra layer of difficulty for him, in situations which were already precarious to begin with, by employing arcane phrases.

"I am unsure about the customs observed on Earth when entering one's private quarters."

"No customs are observed, especially not among friends, you just barge in and make yourself home." Kirk replied with his easy smile.

So Spock proceeded to "barge in" and then was presented with a new conundrum - where in the room to position himself - the bed was too personal, the only chair next to the study table was unavailable due to an assortment of clothing hanging from it, he couldn't just stand in the middle of the room. Finally he crossed the length of the room and stood next to the window hoping it would suffice.

Kirk followed him with this eyes, the expression on his face hinting at amusement ,and said, "We are going to be sharing a room Mr. Spock for the next two days, how did you survive the last two years...didn't you have to share your room?"

"Negative."

"You have never done this before?!! You have a room all to yourself here?"

"Indeed."

"Why?" Kirk was unable to curb his curiosity, it seemed.

"Vulcans are a private species and even among family members sharing rooms is unusual. Captain Pike has been most kind to me by persuading Starfleet to accommodate my needs."

Kirk looked pensive. “I see. I didn't know this...cultural difference. Ummmm...I will have to check if an additional room is available at the inn I booked at. Give me a minute," and Kirk was reaching for his PADD.

"That will not be necessary. I am not averse to learn this human ...custom. Furthermore, I am not comfortable in leaving you unattended in your present condition."

Kirk said something under his breath, which Spock's ears picked up as a reference to maternal domestic fowl, but the cadet added in a normal voice aloud, "Okay then! That's settled. Give me a hand so we can get out of here already."

Spock did not extend his hand to the cadet as he would have done two years ago, instead he deduced that the cadet was asking for his help. He was glad to be able to assist - a vast improvement over standing like a fixture in the corner.

"How may I be of help?"

"Stuff everything from that drawer into this bag." Kirk instructed, pointing to the bed, and then he disappeared into the bathroom, with a small empty bag in his hand.

Spock hesitated for a fraction at the intimacy of the action he was asked, but then squaring his shoulders he proceeded to extract the clothing items from the specified drawer one by one, folding them neatly and stacking them on the bed. He picked up the last item - a pair of trousers, listening all the while to the various clattering and banging noises coming from the bathroom which suggested Kirk was "stuffing" an alarming number of personal hygiene products, when Spock noticed the piece of paper lying on the bottom of the shelf, its surface dotted with red ink.

Spock read the words written on it - _" Fuck you pretty boy. If you say one word to anyone,I will hurt your people,you are so fucked James T. Kirk."_ \- and froze.

 

 

 

 

 


	16. Journey

Jim emerged from the bathroom to see neat piles of clothes on his bed categorized by type and size and immediately broke into a chuckle. Moving hurriedly because he was impatient to get his vacation started, he started putting the stacks of clothes in his hiking backpack - it was the only kind he owned - and then saw Spock standing hesitantly with his pair of trousers by the dresser. He plucked the trousers from Spock's hands and hurried back into the bathroom to change calling out behind his back "Do you ever do anything that is _not_ orderly and logical Mr. Spock?"

Spock didn't answer and Jim chuckled some more at the discomfort the poor guy was experiencing having to put up with Kirk's mess of a room and with no customs to fall back on. Dressed in a plaid shirt and dark trousers Jim stepped out and moved to his bursting backpack, zipped the last pocket closed and hoisted the now heavy the bag on his shoulders. Immediately he felt a sense of vertigo sweep through him and swayed a little.

 

It was gone in the next instant but Spock had of course caught it and the dark eyes were filled with concern. Jim sighed.

"I am fine Spock. Don't look at me like that. Everyone's been looking at me lately like that!"

 

Spock wasn't persuaded and still looking all grim he simply extended one hand with the palm open.

Jim didn't want to spoil their vacation mood so he acquiesced and handed the heavy backpack to Spock.

"Ready?" he asked.

Spock nodded and they left Jim's room - Jim feeling stupid with Spock carrying his bag - and walked to where the main road ran by the Academy grounds; a hovercraft Jim had booked was waiting for them floating in the air silently.

 

They climbed in and Jim commanded the navigation panel - "Albion Inn California, max speed" and the hovercraft took off with a _whoosh_. It rose up vertically and beyond the Academy grounds the Command headquarters came into view - a magnificent structure which thrust itself upward in a symbol for what space exploration was about - situated in the redwood forest of old city peninsula. There weren't very many of buildings like these except the historically important few which had been kept in their original form to remind future generations of what once they had been. The smooth tritanium-blue surface of the headquarters, from where all decisions about space explorations and missions were issued, gleamed in the afternoon light as their hovercraft left the bay area behind and kilometers upon kilometers of blue water and green vegetation stretched ahead. He still could not believe that all the clutter which a living civilization entailed had all been up on the surface just a few centuries ago almost killing off the planet's atmosphere and delicate eco-system.

It had been a landmark turn in Earth's history when mankind moved much of that clutter of their lives underground leaving the planet surface open to ecological rehabilitation and reform.

 

Spock had been silent since they left his room and Jim didn't like the little frown that had been on his face.

 

"Have you ever been inside there?" Jim asked pointing to the fleet tower.

"Negative. I believe access is restricted to flag officers and high level diplomats except in special cases like transfer of command of a starship."

"Someday I hope to be there...." Jim said wistfully looking at the receding structure.

The frown disappeared and Spock looked at him with interest "Do you desire a desk job?"

Jim laughed "Oh no!!....to take command of my own ship I meant." And a small blush crept up as he added softly "It's what I have dreamed of since a kid."

Spock watched him with a soft expression for a few moments no doubt noticing his sudden red cheeks.

 

"I look forward to that day then." the Vulcan replied matter-of-factly but it was the first time ever that Jim had expressed his most ardent desire to someone whose opinion he really respected and to have Spock so casually and yet earnestly accept his ambitious dream overwhelmed Kirk for a moment. He blinked at Spock and then looking away to hide his face replied, "Thank you. That means a lot...more than you will know."

 

Jim looked out of the window again at the blue waters of the Pacific ocean they were passing by, above them heavily pregnant grey clouds hung low and in the distance he could just about make out the horizon. The heat against which he had struggled today morning - _had all that been just today morning?_ \- had not dissipated yet and the air was still with the storm that was no doubt building up. Jim wasn't worried of course, minor storms were allowed by the planet wide weather control system and on days like today he wondered how the humans in past braved destructive weather patterns like tornadoes and hurricanes. He had read about them in earth history courses and sometimes felt a morbid desire to experience the wrath of nature first hand. He knew though that in reality the loss of life was too high a price to pay for the adventure and thrill such phenomenon may have provided. He would seek out adventure elsewhere - beyond his planet and star system.

 

"What about you?"

Spock turned back from his own window to look at him and after a pause replied "I do not desire command."

"You do not?! You are brilliant, competent, brave....everything a Captain needs to be."

"I appreciate your kind though perhaps biased words but I wish to serve. My expertise will be most useful in a position which aids the leadership and allows me to pursue my scientific curiosity."

"Hmmm...now that you mention it, you are right. You are a scientist at heart...maybe a Science officer then?"

"A most amenable suggestion."

A smile lit up Kirk's face..."I can't wait for that day Spock!! The ship which has you on board will be the luckiest in all of fleet."

 

Before Spock could respond, the 250 km distance had been covered in 15 minutes at max speed and their hovercraft started descending rapidly.

 

Kirk peered below to see they were above a small collection of secluded white colored cottages which were nestled along the slope of a mountain range, dotted with pink and white blooms among lush green vegetation. They disembarked from the hovercraft which left with another _whoosh_ and walked down a charming path made of oval stones set in moss covered ground. Shrubs with various colored flowers lined both sides and the smell of roses filled the air. Jim stole a glance at Spock and was relieved to see his friend's mood had improved and Spock was clearly bowled over by the natural and simple beauty of the rustic little establishment.

 

 Inside the one-story building marked "Registration" was an old lady who greeted them.

"Mr. Kirk?" she asked with a smile.

"Yes ma'am, I have a room booked for 2 nights."

"It is all ready for you. Have you been here before?" She asked as she scanned his fingerprints for verification.

"Actually no, it's our first time." Jim smiled back pointing at Spock and himself.

 

"You will like what we have here then, our inn and the surrounding area are designed for relaxation and rejuvenation. Everything you see has been preserved painstakingly from centuries ago - so don't be surprised when doors don't open by themselves and meals don't pop out of synthesizers. In keeping with that theme, we do not use any modern entertainment like computer libraries or holovideos. Food is cooked the traditional way it used to be centuries ago and served at the common restaurant though we do employ modern emission-free fuel. You have room number 20. Don't miss the spectacular sunset every evening. Enjoy your stay gentlemen." and she handed them an old fashioned key and a paper-map!

 

Thanking the lady they left and once outside Jim opened the map studying it, while Spock looked over his shoulder. He handed the key to Spock and asked "Well, Mr. Spock?"

"Fascinating" Spock replied turning the key over in his hand, feeling the metal and studying the grooves intently.

"I thought you would like the unique experience and the view."

"You were correct. I am familiar with twentieth century terran life from my studies but I have not experienced it first hand and ...all of this is most interesting."

 

Feeling intense happiness that Spock liked his choice, he traced his fingers on the map and said "20 is this last one here...shall we?"

Spock closed his long fingers on the key and adjusting the two bags on himself set off. Jim followed relishing the expression on the Vulcan's face who looked truly fascinated with everything around them.

 

They walked along the mountain edge and reached a cottage at the end, surrounded by a wall of privacy trees, overlooking the ocean which had cut into the mountain range forming a perfect cliff top. Spock found the keyhole in the front-door and inserted the key carefully with a look which Kirk suspected was as near to delight as Vulcans got to. When the door swung in on slightly creaking hinges to reveal the cutest place Kirk had ever seen, Spock stood with a look of wonder.

 

A huge bed with wooden headboards and covered in floral bed sheets lined with delicate lace was off to one side of the spacious room, two comfortable chairs facing an old style fireplace was on the other side and one whole side of the room was lined with windows which looked out to the most stunning view of blue ocean and green mountainside. The opposite wall was lined with a floor to ceiling book case filled with rows and rows of actual leather bound books! Spock dropped the bags on the floor and wandered around looking at everything as if he was in a museum and Jim found it.....adorable! In a corner of the room was a round wood table on which stood a beautifully carved old style 2D chess board - it was opened up and just waiting for someone to use.

 

Kirk walked out to the wooden private deck which overlooked the ocean and breathed in the heavy balmy air. There were two Adirondack chairs and a swing-chair large enough to accommodate two - all made of wood with a beautiful patina on them and the swing seat cushion was covered with the same floral pattern as the bed. As the old lady had promised, he did indeed feel a little of all the built-up stress in his body leaving him.

 

 

"Is walking down to the bluff considered strenuous activity?" Kirk called out aloud to Spock and wandered back in the living room where he found Spock bent over and peering at the various little knick-knacks on the mantel piece.

"Negative." Spock straightened and gazed at Jim with a look which said he could detect Jim's excitement from a mile away and reciprocated it.

"C'mon then" Jim said excitedly reaching out towards Spock and pulling him by the sleeve of his shirt, literally dragged Spock behind him.                                                                                                                                           

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The inn is real! Here is a link to the "map" if you are curious-  
> http://www.albionriverinn.com/images/property_map.jpg  
> and the room -  
> http://www.albionriverinn.com/Room20.php


	17. Beauty

Spock followed by his side, a small step behind, letting Kirk take the lead - it seemed the logical order of universe - Kirk lead and Spock followed. He would have insisted on leading the way due to the possibility of Kirk's weakened body coming upon unexpected danger. However, the mountain side was not steep and as such he saw no logic in denying the human the pleasure of finding his way. He noticed Kirk had brightened up considerably after they had landed in this mesmerizing place. He had watched Jim inhale deeply and take in the flora and fauna with a gleam in his eyes. They walked in comfortable silence for some time.

Suddenly he was startled by a high pitch noise and he realized it was emanating from his companion's lips. He cocked his head and looked at Kirk with curiosity. There seemed to be a musical tone to the high pitch noise. "May I enquire to the nature of the sound you are currently producing?" Kirk flashed him a bright grin and said with a laugh "I am whistling Spock".

"Whistling?"

"Yes, it's a sound made by ..uh..forcing air through one's lips...like this". Kirk proceeded to create a circle with his lips while simultaneously his cheeks protruded. Spock's eyebrow arched up. Kirk gave up and shrugged. "It's something humans do, Mr. Spock".

"What purpose does it serve? Communication does not seem to be the intention".

"No, no, it's not meant for communication. It's just..uh..a way to express I guess."

"Express?"

Kirk made a curious laughing sound "I don't know Spock. It is just something humans do when they are happy".

"Fascinating. Please continue."

Kirk shook his head and looked away. Spock knew this look and it meant the human felt the emotion termed embarrassment.

"I feel conscious now. I didn't even realize I was whistling. It has been a while I did that." They seem to be nearing the edge of the cliff.

"I apologize. Perhaps I should not have interrupted."

Kirk just smiled and kept walking.

"Jim.... I want to listen to you whistle. Please continue," said Spock in a quiet voice.

 The sound started again after a few moments and this time Spock was sure to just listen and try to memorize the melody his human created.   

They reached the bottom of the slope from the cottage where the ocean waves were crashing beneath the rocky cliff wall and stood atop the bluff edge and watched the sea gulls swooping down to the surface of water. Kirk sat down cross legged on the rocky bluff point and patted the space next to him with a smile. Spock slid down and after a moment of hesitation folded his long limbs into himself wrapping his arms around his folded knees in an informal posture which would have been frowned upon on his home planet.

 

After few minutes Kirk spoke up without taking his eyes off the water body."Spock why didn't you come to the gala - on Federation day?"

Spock considered how to frame his response and chose his words carefully, "I have found such occasions to be uncomfortable."

"Because of the noise and chaos?"

"Because of my inability to understand the purpose of such gathering, the rules of non-verbal communication which dominate such events and my aversion to physical contact."

"Yes I have noticed that. Would it be rude of me to ask ...why you ... avoid physical contact?"

"On the contrary... a direct question is the most efficient manner of soliciting information."

Jim turned to Spock and waited.

 

Spock took a deep breath and unconsciously switched to his professor voice. "Vulcans are touch telepaths. We can read emotions through touch alone and ...thoughts through joining of minds...this is not a problem usually as every Vulcan practices shielding their telepathy and beyond childhood we can both block reading others and prevent others from reading us. Human beings are unaware of the skills required to control or shield their emotions. A Vulcan whose shields are weakened may inadvertently violate another's privacy and himself suffer unpleasant emotional transference."

 

"I see." Kirk replied thoughtfully. "And so being in such an environment is overwhelming for you...and taxes your shields?"

"Affirmative."

"You also said that you do not understand the purpose of such gatherings. Doesn't the concept of celebration exist on Vulcan?"

"Celebration would not be a correct term. We have ceremonies however most are private events where only family members are invited and we acknowledge each other's company through silent communal meditation."

"Wow...sounds so opposite of ours." Jim chewed on his lower lip as he looked back out to the ocean.

 

Spock was relieved to see his explanations were accepted - he shouldn't look for acceptance but he found nevertheless that he was anxious to make Kirk understand him - not just Vulcan culture but Spock himself - he realized that he wanted Kirk to _see_ inside him.

 

"I have a question of my own."

"Shoot."

Spock raised an eyebrow at the idiom but focused on the matter at hand, "I wish to know why did you keep on running today morning...even when it was obvious you were incapacitated?"

A pair of bright eyes immediately shut closed and a blonde head dropped in between two palms in a gesture which alarmed Spock. "I apologize for my-"

Kirk spoke from his hidden spot between his hands but his voice was clear and even "No, don't. It’s not that...I am just embarrassed."

Spock was unsure what to say next when Kirk again spoke up, "Do you promise not to tell anyone?"

 _Such a unique human expression - the extraction of honor_ \- Spock thought. Gently he replied to the young man who in moments like these was still outgrowing his boyhood, "I do."

 

"At first, I thought it was the heat getting to me. You know...just dehydration hitting my system. Then I think, I was delusional. Something must have been added to the paralyzer. Anyways, my delusion happened to be this vivid feeling that I was..."

Kirk removed a hand from his face and started fiddling with a blade of grass near his foot keeping his eyes on the ground, "a captain of a ship...we were marooned on some planet somewhere...and I was trying to save my crew. Every time I hurt, I reminded myself that the lives of my men and women depended on me...on my ability to channel my mind over my body....it sounds ridiculous I know, but it was what I was trying to do."

 

Spock studied the downcast face. Such immense mental power without any formal training was surprising and admirable but it seemed the youngster did not appreciate his own strength.

"Your sense of duty, devotion and sacrifice is admirable."

At these words, Kirk finally looked up and his eyes searched for something in Spock's face.

"You are not kidding! You actually believe me!"

"I always do. I also felt your emotions first hand." Spock replied.

"Oh?!!"

"I must apologize for my lapse of controls....the circumstances were unexpected." Spock hung his head.

"So you read my emotions?" Kirk didn't look offended, Spock noted.

 

"Yes. They were not logical and I was confused. I expected you to feel fear and helplessness - normal reactions when faced with extreme pain."

 

"I _did_ feel fear. I am certain I did. But as I said I was delusional. Honestly you are giving way too much credit. That's the second time today you have heard my ridiculous idea about being a Captain." A crooked smile tried to make light of the situation.

 

"Jim, you demonstrated mind control which would make trained Vulcans look inferior next to you yet you remain oblivious. There is nothing _ridiculous_ about your merit as a candidate for Captaincy. Do not doubt your worth and do not let anyone else make you doubt!" Spock almost growled.

 

Kirk looked stunned at the intensity of Spock's words. "Wow! No one has shown such faith in me before.You ...you just listen and you understand me...you _never_ judge me! Yes, that’s right. You don't _judge_!"

 

On Jim's face - there was wonder, hope, gratitude and deep affection. Something stirred inside Spock.

 "You did not judge _me_ when I expressed my opinions about human celebrations." He pointed out logically.

 

"There is nothing anyone can say or judge you about. I have never met a kinder soul than you. If you were human, I would have hugged the life out of you right now." Jim replied fiercely and visibly restrained himself from reaching out to Spock. The human, whose every word pierced Spock's heart, turned his head back to watching the play of water and earth.

 

Spock dropped his gaze and did not say anything. He had failed earlier to point out that his rule about physical contact had an exception - Jim could touch him. Now it was too late, and Spock realized the error was going to cost him dearly. In the absence of the hug, which was mentioned, but preemptively taken away from him, his senses became acutely aware of the proximity of their bodies. The way Jim's chest moved as he breathed, the flutter of the plaid shirt against his skin, and he realized with a deep sorrow that the breeze was allowed to touch Jim, but not him.

 

They sat there until the horizon started darkening turning the sky into a deep magenta canvas. When he stole a glance sideways, he was transfixed by the profile awash in the setting sunlight, the human lips, the long eyelashes, the curve of a neck, the way a lock of hair fell on a forehead.

 

"Beautiful! Isn't it", came the whisper from his side.

"Indeed", replied Spock still looking at Jim, who seemed lost in the sunset, and Spock was unsure of which beauty he was referring to.


	18. Consequences

A slight breeze blew providing welcome relief from the humid warm evening. Time trickled by filling his eyes and heart with the breathtaking view and the words which had been exchanged between them.Jim didn't know how long he sat there. This extraordinary day was coming to an end and it felt like the wind and the sun and the skies were all aware of it and letting Jim know they were rejoicing with him. Without turning to Spock he murmured, "Beautiful isn't it?"

 

Through his peripheral vision he noticed Spock had a strange look, something Kirk hadn't seen before and the Vulcan replied in a low voice, "Indeed." Jim smiled internally at that response - there were limitless applications to that word and Spock used it in as many ways, yet he couldn’t really accuse his friend for attempting to prevaricate.

 

Tonight that word seemed to take on a new whole new dimension - may be because of the almost husky voice Spock spoke in, or maybe it was in the way Spock's eyes burnt - suddenly that single word made Jim fluster. He didn't want this evening to ever end - it was surreal, just him and Spock in this corner of the world, but the adrenaline surge which had carried him throughout the afternoon and evening, finally seemed be running out. His body started feeling the beating it had taken today and he knew he would pass out if he didn't haul ass soon.

 

Getting up he tried to distract himself and hopefully Spock. "Do you know what that is?" He pointed at the structure in the distance.

 

"Negative."

"It's a fog horn - an old style weather warning device - used to signal the navigational hazard to boats in low visibility conditions, before modern technology rendered them obsolete."

 

"Fascinating." Spock was standing up as well and Jim noted the strange look was still present in those dark eyes, and also that his Vulcan friend had taken refuge in monosyllables.

 

Another wave of vertigo hit him and he nearly toppled off the edge, down into the crashing waves. Spock pulled him back by the front of his plaid shirt. Kirk found his balance with his heart pounding loudly against his rib cage. Spock's hand remained. He felt cool breath blow on his face, his eyes automatically closing in response and his heart threatened to leap out of his body all together.

 

Speechless, Jim felt like he was having an out of body experience - floating away - held in place only by the thread connecting him back to Earth through Spock's hold on his shirt. Time seemed to stand still and he was positive his heartbeat could be heard all over the mountain side and still the hand wouldn't let go!

 

He did not dare to look up into those pools of amber, there would be no coming back from _that,_  so he steadfastly kept his eyes closed, and fought to control his teenage human reactions.

 

The skies listened to his internal plea again and a big fat drop of water landed on his nose, jolting away the hand on his shirt.

  

 

* * *

 

 

It was a testament to his inner turmoil that he had forgotten about the gathering clouds and the first drop caught him unawares. Spock having grown up on a dry and hot planet strongly detested the sensation of wetness. In San Francisco, he had always stayed out of rain, planning his day precisely to avoid being caught outdoors.

 

As it started raining in earnest, he quickly darted back from the edge of the cliff to seek shelter under the trees. Water drops danced around him and fell from broad leaves splattering on the grass and bouncing off the rocks on the edge of the cliff. A pleasant and earthen smell enveloped him and he was enchanted by the whole spectacle from his vantage point. Then he noticed that Kirk had not moved; instead he stood in the downpour, his arms wide, eyes closed, face upturned and a smile rested on his lips as he let his body get soaked by the torrent.

 

Spock watched in fascination when the red and black shirt started to cling to Kirk's frame outlining every angle of the muscular lean body. His eyes followed a single drop which fell on one closed eyelid and then traveled down the long eyelashes, down a chiseled cheek, over the strong jaw line, past the dip where collarbones met and disappeared. He stopped himself, before his eyes could travel further down, and looked back up to see that Kirk had opened his eyes, squinting in the rain and was looking at him with an amused smile. His hair was plastered over his forehead and streams of raindrops ran down his face - an ethereal presence which seemed to pull Spock with the force of a thousand stars.

 

Spock's controls had never been tested like this day before. First, the nightmare of almost losing Jim, then the horror of discovering the note, and now the child like abandonment with which Jim was letting him see a most intimate side of him.

 

His mind and his very _katra_ were experiencing feelings he never knew he had. Most startlingly, never before had his body reacted this way. To _anyone_ , any _being_. Spock's need to touch Jim had won out once already, in the recovery room, and this longest day seemed determined to fracture all his remaining controls.

 

"It would be prudent of you to move away from the precipice."

 

Kirk lowered his arms and looked suspiciously at Spock. Then Jim took deliberate and slow steps towards him, till the wet human was meters away from the spot, where a very dry Vulcan was rooted to, beneath the tree he had taken shelter under. Spock was, for the first time in his life, unsure of what he would do if Jim came any closer.

 

He had read about rain in terran literature and found the interest and mystery attributed to it most dubious. He was not so sure anymore. In fact, he may be growing a new appreciation for it. Apparently, the release of condensation from atmosphere wreaked havoc, in humans and Vulcans alike. Or may just one Vulcan.

 

 Looking directly into Spock’s eyes, with a grin on his face, that did not bode well, Jim took one more step forward, bent his head slightly and ran his fingers through his wet hair in a vigorous manner. Water droplets sprayed everywhere and on Spock causing him to flinch back into the rough tree trunk, but there was nowhere to go.

He growled a warning " _Jim!_ ". This prompted peals of laughter and Spock knew he would be fighting a losing battle unless he came up with a new strategy.

 Jim took another step forward. He looked exhausted but the challenge was written all over his sparkling eyes, and his lips were pressed into a mischievous smile. The sky behind Kirk, was putting on a last show of colors, as the sun reluctantly relinquished its control, silhouetting the falling rain.   

 

"If you continue with the present course of action, there will be consequences."

"Oh! Is that a threat?"

"I do not threaten, Jim. I merely state facts."

"Is that so? Well Mr. Spock, you would find me a formidable enemy," replied Jim, delighted at the verbal duel.

"I am aware of that. The question is, are you aware of the reverse?" Spock replied in a low voice.

 

Jim swallowed but continued, "What kind of consequences are we talking about?"

"The kind where I carry you all the way from here to the cottage in my arms."

"What!!!! No way can you do that," was the horrified response, but Spock's first experiment at emotional manipulation was a success, because Jim had taken a step back.

 

"I assure you I can and I have." Spock relaxed and leaned back on the bark of the tree. He crossed his arms across his chest and folded a leg on the tree trunk, in a second experiment to create the appearance of emotional security, using body language.

 

"You have?!! I don't understand...when have you carried me like a....when?" Kirk was aghast.

"Today morning when you were unable to walk".

Jim closed his eyes. "Across the whole campus?...oh my God," and with a groan, he was out of Spock's space - the earlier course of action seemingly forgotten.

 

Muttering under his breath, Jim started walking up the slope in the dim light and called out behind his back, "You win this round. But you can't stay there all night hoping to keep dry Mr. Scaredy-cat. This rain won't stop soon. At least the worse is over, and it’s really not that bad now. Let's go Spock."

 

Spock raised a brow but knew avoidance of the moisture was futile; also that Kirk was starting to look really fatigued and Dr. McCoy had prescribed rest, which so far he had avoided.

 

He would not have been averse to carrying the human again, he admitted to himself, but Jim was already walking up the mountain side, water sloshing with every determined step, his trousers clinging to his backside. So Spock pushed himself off the tree, stepped out into the rain and followed his companion into the twilight.

 

Because he knew now that he would follow Jim anywhere - into the unpleasant sensation of rain or into a black hole if needed.


	19. Free Fall

Trigger Warning: PTSD/implied sexual abuse. Nothing graphic.

 

 

Jim pushed the door open and stumbled in, his wet clothes trailing water all over the beige carpet, and sat down tugging his soaked boots free. Spock followed in, filling the cottage air with petrichor. Smiling to himself at the smell, Jim found dry clothes from his backpack, and went to the bathroom to peel off the soaking wet ones he had on.

"I will change in the bathroom. You can change here."

The bathroom had a huge tub, enough to accommodate two, and right from the tub, one could see the vista through the floor to ceiling windows. Jim chuckled to himself at the thought - after the way the Vulcan had scurried away at a little rain - a tub was probably a form of punishment.

Exhaustion hit him in waves and he chastised himself for not taking a break sooner. He had not intended on ignoring McCoy's advice. he just got carried away by the place and the magic around him. Toweling himself with heavy arms, he had to sit down on the cool tiled floor, unable to stand anymore. He slipped into a light pajama set, sitting on the floor, working his legs one at a time, like a little boy. Then he tried to get up but a strong sensation of dizziness hit him and he slumped back further. His forehead hit the floor. The cool touch was a welcome relief. His mind started panicking and images from this morning flashed by - he was going to die! Again!

 

The dizziness and nausea intensified. His heart pounding, he started descending into his personal hell slowly.

 

The images from morning started clashing with new ones as his mind unearthed hidden memories - flashes of recollection from a violent time in his past - one he had worked so hard through years of therapy to bury.

"Spock!" He had meant to call out at the top of his lungs, but his voice came out barely audible even to himself.

Laboring to breath as he tried to get enough oxygen in, so he could try again, he fought against the blurring of reality into his worst nightmare. A minute went by or a month, he couldn't make out ...Jim realized with a startle that he was going in and out of consciousness. _This was not good. He couldn’t pass out, not like this, they would get to him. He had to reach the cave._

 

His senses became hyper alert and he heard the soft scraping of feet coming towards him. _They had found him! After all the months of hiding, it was going to be all futile. Starvation had made him so weak he had collapsed before he could reach the cave and now he was helpless._

He lost all touch with reality and was free falling into madness now. 

 

Cold fingers touched his wrist. _NO!NO! Pleasseee no! Not again...he had worked so hard to become strong, to never be weak again and now everything was going to be taken away from him._

 

A sob broke through his lips. Mercifully the hands groping him left his body.

 

In the momentary respite, fury replaced his fear and boiled in his blood till red hot rage flooded Jim's mind . _He was not going to let them win again - no, not this time, he was not fourteen anymore, no fucking way would they violate him again._ So, when he felt the probing cold fingers on him a second time, he was ready. Jim hissed like a wild animal and with lightning fast speed, he struck out viciously, determined to draw blood.

 

"Jim!" A low voice full of concern.

 

Jim froze. His confused mind slowly parted ways and let the voice carry all the way to his core,where it suddenly lighted up his entire being. The darkness receded. That voice - he knew it! It meant safety - it meant refuge.

He felt rivers of warmth pouring in from every direction in his mind, and he was no longer exposed to danger. The warm currents, shining like thousand golden threads, converged into a single glowing ball enveloping him. It carried him till he was safely inside his cave, and then, the entire cave burst with sparkling stars of gold and silver and …Jim was _home_.

 

He fluttered his eyes open. A slender body clothed in a navy blue robe was arched into a curve, kneeling down next to him and gentle eyes with infinite depths were looking at him.

 

"Oh," was all Jim could say but his mind completely cleared up. He was having a panic attack, he understood immediately, his training kicking in from his therapy days. He had thought he had learnt to identify the triggers but he had been caught unaware this time. He concentrated on relaxing himself  for next several minutes. Bit by bit, his body followed his brain's commands, and he was out of the throes of the fear that had gripped him.

 

Spock was still looking at him, his gaze very soft, a tint of green on his lips and Jim realized with anguish he had hit his friend!

"I'm sorry....I am okay now. It was a panic attack."

 

Spock nodded and asked in a gentle voice "I must stabilize your body temperature. May I?"

Jim scrunched up his face in confusion and effort. "Spock?...I don't understand...I can't think straight."

A deep breath and then the voice murmured, "I am going transfer you to the bed Jim. Please."

 

Right! He suddenly remembered he was sprawled on the bathroom floor.

 

"I will not violate your privacy Jim. My shields are in place. Please do not stress yourself." Jim nodded and let go, trying to do as he was being told. Spock moved gracefully towards him, holding out both his arms slowly and when Jim didn't react negatively he was lifted up in those strong arms.

Spock carried him out of the bathroom and Jim instinctively turned his head and burrowed himself in the cool chest feeling very safe. Firm hands placed him on the soft and massive bed and covered him with a fluffy blanket tucking the sides till Jim was cocooned, adjusted his pillows till Jim's head was comfortably propped up and then left his body. Jim instantly panicked and clutched the retreating palm. "Stay! Don't leave me!"

"I will be back momentarily...I will not leave your side, Jim, please you _must_ relax." The voice was so full of reassurance that Jim trusted it without any more hesitation.

 

Spock went inside the bathroom and after a few seconds returned with a glass of water and sat next to Jim on the bed, silently holding the glass to his lips. Jim drank the offered water - it tasted salty and sweet - a corner of his mind dimly thanked Spock's resourcefulness for adding electrolytes.

 

"Thanks", he mumbled with a smile and his head rolled back onto the bed. A comm chirped with a second chirp coming simultaneously. Spock flipped his comm open and without looking at Kirk said, "It is Dr. McCoy, he has been concerned about the changes in your readings." Jim vaguely remembered the tracker on his ankle.

 

"I have assured him that you are being attended to." Spock replied to Jim's unspoken question and put the communicator aside and taking the empty glass with him rose again. This time Kirk felt stable and just watched his friend who went to a box lying on a table by the fireplace. To his surprise, Spock lifted out two long pointy instruments which looked suspiciously familiar!

 

Jim's eyes widened and in response Spock replied, "Dr. McCoy sent emergency supplies while we were outdoors.".

Gratitude filled him - he must have accumulated some cosmic level karma to deserve a friend like Bones.

 

Spock administered the two hypos and then came back with a bowl balanced on a plate.

"What's that?" 

"Your dinner." Spock sat down next to him on the bed, and Jim looked up with a smile.

"Does my proximity upset you?"

"No." Jim was feeling better every second. "I am okay now."

 

"Allow me then...", and dipping a spoon into the clear broth like liquid, which smelled wonderfully of his favorite chicken noodle soup, the usually stoic, stern, formal Vulcan brought the spoon to his lips.

 

Without conscious thought, Jim's lips opened, and for the next several minutes, he was fed, and there were no words in the whole universe which could describe what Jim was feeling.

 

When a little bit escaped his mouth and started dribbling down his chin, Spock wiped it away with a napkin silently. They looked at each other the entire time, tears welled up in Jim's eyes at the sight of the split on his friend's lips, and when a single drop spilled over his cheek that too was wiped away gently.

 

Soup finished, Spock adjusted his pillows to lower his head and right on cue Jim let out a massive jaw cracking yawn. He couldn't help but chuckle and Spock's eyes crinkled with mirth as well - that small gesture did more to sooth away remaining tension than any words could have. Spock allowing him to find humor and joining Jim in it, despite everything that had just transpired, it was a priceless gift.

 

"One of the compounds in the hypos Dr. McCoy sent is a sedative."

"Awesome. I feel like I could sleep for a year."

"Rest well....Jim."

"Good night Spock." A sleepy smile stretched on his face. Wrapped securely in the blanket, his tummy full and with Spock still sitting by him Jim let himself slip away into the welcoming land of unconsciousness.

  

"Spock?" voice thick with sleep he reached out.

"Yes Jim?"

"Stay."

" _Abi'd'kam sa'le-esh-tor_ " and blackness enveloped him.

 

 

\------------------------------

 

When Jim awoke, the room was dark and moonlight was flooding in from the windows. He noticed dimly that the rain had stopped outside. A figment of his nightmare swam around in his mind. He realized that's why he must have woken up, but it wasn't like most nights. He felt so much more peaceful. Looking down towards his feet, which were wrapped like a burrito, he noticed a Vulcan head resting on folded arms, few inches away on the bed. The rest of the body was seated in a chair, which had been pulled closed to the bed. Sleep took him back like a strong tide, but not before he had adjusted his legs inside his cocoon, and moved them till they touched the soft hair on the resting head. Jim slipped back peacefully into the night again.

 

\------------------------------

 

The next time he awoke, bright sunlight was streaming in through the same windows. There was no Vulcan at the foot of the bed, so his eyes searched around, and found the straight-as-a-rod back standing next to the bookcase.

"Found anything interesting?" Jim piped.

Spock whirred around, his robe twirling a bit and regarded Jim with appraising eyes. Satisfied at whatever the appraisal was for, he replied, "I have finished two books so far. I was deciding on which to pick next. Did you sleep well?"

"What time is it? What day?" Jim raised his hands above his head and stretched.

"It is 4:40 PM Saturday."

"I slept for....20 something hours straight?!!"

"20 hours 32 minutes 45 seconds. Dr. McCoy assures me this is a good sign."

Shaking his head, Jim kicked his legs free of the blanket. He did feel refreshed he admitted, and his stomach let him know, famished as well.

"How long did you sleep?"

"8 hours. For a Vulcan, that is extraordinarily long." Spock replied in his usual serious tone.

 

"Hmph! And what have you been up to since waking up?" Jim stood up and tested his balance. No dizziness, no vertigo...all systems clear so far. In fact, he felt great, like he was on top of the world.

 

"I meditated for 4 hours. The two books have taken 4 hours.  Another 130 minutes were spent in sitting on the deck observing outdoors. 23 minutes for ablutions. 12 minutes partaking in morning meal-"

Jim raised a hand to stop Spock's monologue. "Got it! So that's good. You've not been bored?"

"Vulcans do not get bored." Spock looked all offended, as if someone had insulted his entire lineage.

 

Jim went to Spock and looked at the thin pink lips which were slightly swollen and had a greenish hue. The split was healing. He touched them with just the tip of a finger, very, very gently, and then dropped his hands. Jim winked at Spock, "You are a cutie, you know that?"

No response.

 

"I am starving. But first I must ....perform _ablutions,_ " Jim grinned and strode past Spock, who stood regal in his floor length robe, with his hands crossed behind him. The head had dropped slightly and a pair of dark eyes were studying the fibers of the carpet.

“Get ready, we are going out!”  A last minute command was fired before the bathroom door swung shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation from Vulcan :  
> Abi'd'kam sa'le-esh-tor - until the day I die/until my last breath.


	20. Choices

His breath slowly became calmer and softer as his mind focused and his meditation deepened. Concentrating on the in and out of his breath as it passed his nostrils, Spock shut out all other images and thoughts from his mind.

 

It was the first step in meditation - looking inward to find answers within you - revealing all the hidden dark spots. To search one’s own inner world one needs a light, a calm and focused mind is like the tip of a laser beam - it can penetrate through all illusions and fantasies - creating a clear sculpture of the truth.

 

Spock cherished his Vulcan heritage - the gift of meditation and mind control - the art of finding truth in every waking moment and in every facet of existence was central to his personality. Without an impartial mind one floated like a dry leave in a stream, cast this way and that, dependent on the mood of the water which carried it. Spock strived to be the rock, around which the water flowed, both touching him and yet unable to direct its journey. A rock, which over the years took some of the water's attributes through erosion and the water in turn knew it always had to part around it. But most importantly the rock never gave up and its integrity changed the very shape of the river.

 

At age seven he had chosen the path of logic. To be in tune with himself, to understand the universe both outside and inside and to live a life governed by the observable truth. Science offered him tools to explore the reality outside of him, Vulcan logic gave him the ability to do so inside of him.

 

And yet emotions were inescapable - they were an immutable property of fully formed sentience. Surak had showed how one could understand emotions - accept them but not react. Reaction was a choice and every being, humans included, had a choice in how they reacted.

 

It was 0440 AM.

 

His meditation deepened as his mind quieted and he scanned his physical body for blocked emotions. Concentrating on those parts he unlocked each and by the last hour of his meditation he experienced full body flow. When he finally came out of his meditative trance, he was ready to process his thoughts from yesterday - his mind was calm, serene, alert and equanimous.

 

Spock opened his eyes slowly as his vision reoriented itself to the physical world he inhabited. The first sounds he registered were of a human breathing in  a regular soothing rhythm. He rose from his mat, folded it and put it away. His internal chronometer and the bright sky outside told him that the night had ended while he was in his trance and it was 0830 AM now. Walking over to the bed he stood watching the sleeping form for some minutes. Dr. McCoy would have let him know if anything was amiss, the absence of communication meant positive change. This was reinforced by the tranquility he sensed in the air surrounding Jim.

 

Last night, he had called the inn's restaurant to let them know about his ill companion and that all meals were to be brought to their cottage until further notice. The slight knock on the door at 0845 AM was right on time and he opened to find a dark haired human female holding a covered tray for him. Spock took the tray from her and thanked her, as was the terran custom, and closed the door softly.

 

Taking the tray with him he walked across the room glancing at the bed one more time and stepped out into the private deck. The morning air was fresh after yesterday's cleansing rain though the comforting warmth of the preceding few days was gone. The familiar chillness which his system was still becoming accustomed to was back. Spock was wearing double layers of thermals underneath apart from his thick robe and he found the pleasantness of the open air and beautiful scenery outweighed any inconvenience due to the lower temperatures.

 

He sipped the soup, made of terran vegetables, it was an interesting taste, but not unpleasant. The vast blue expanse of water, called the Pacific Ocean, held his attention as he finished his soup - the abundance of moisture was something that even after two years Spock still found astounding. The green and blue was such a contrast to the brown and grey of Vulcan.

 

Spock's ears picked up sounds of movement from inside and he waited a few seconds to make sure Jim was not waking up. He wasn't - just an adjustment of position which he seemed to do every few hours. Spock was unsure if such restlessness in sleep was common to all humans or just specific to the tortured mind he had seen inside last night.

 

His breakfast over, he eyed the swing chair with interest and decided he wanted to experience this new seating. The swing creaked under his weight and then it started swaying gently - the motion surprisingly comforting to Spock who was deeply concerned with his actions from yesterday.

 

It had been an extraordinary year so far in his journey to become a Starfleet member and the reason for the unusual experience of this year was sleeping inside right now. Spock had been aware of his growing attachment to Cadet Kirk, but yesterday had revealed to him the depth of his attachment and it would be an understatement to say he was stunned.

 

Everything about the Cadet stood out to Spock - his physical attributes, his emotions and now his mind - which he had invaded in a moment of unbearable pain.

 

Spock had first become aware that something was wrong when he sensed distress emanating from the bathroom. He had been confused how this was possible without physical contact but he didn't have time to examine further because he had distinctly heard his name being called and it was laced with such agony that Spock had physically flinched. Upon entering the bathroom, an act in itself a gross violation of privacy, he had found Jim on the floor in extreme distress. Spock's blood had turned ice cold at the sight but it was not the physical condition of the Cadet which resulted in his shock, it was the agony he could sense rolling out into the air between them.

 

Spock had attempted to collect pulse but at his touch Jim recoiled as if his touch had burnt Jim. The contact had unleashed images of unimaginable monstrosity in Spock's mind. Reeling under the violence taking place in Jim's memories, Spock had been completely incapable of employing any restraint or logic. All he knew in that moment was that he _had_ to help the writhing human else he would himself burn in the pain. So Spock committed the crime of initiating a mind meld without permission.

 

What he saw happening to the young Jim of fourteen years old created cracks in his very katra and sorrow and anguish like he had never known before had overwhelmed him. He had channeled with all his power into Jim's mind to bring the struggling human back from the darkness. And he had succeeded with alarming ease - his mind had found such easy acceptance in Jim's that Spock was unnerved. Never before had Spock felt such happiness as the moment when Jim's mind had accepted his help and it had accompanied Spock's back to safety. That moment had rocked Spock to the core - he had not known possible the joy of giving was greater than receiving.

 

What he had done was deeply shunned on Vulcan - a one sided mind-meld with an unaware partner was the worst kind of misuse of a Vulcan's most sacred power.  Yet he had felt he had no choice. However, Surak had taught there was _always_ a choice - that moment between feeling an intense emotion and then _choosing_ to NOT react - was the crux of his teachings. He had failed in every possible way to uphold the teaching he held most dear to his heart.

 

And yet, he could not accept the alternative. He knew if he could time travel and get a second chance he would commit the exact same actions that he did first time.

 

Slight breeze blew across his face as the swing rocked him back and forth and the young morning grew older with each passing moment.

 

Why was his logic failing him when he was with Jim? Was this one human worthy of giving up his lifelong path, all his convictions, his deepest values - and if so, what then separated him from humans who could not be faulted for their emotionalism after all? Maybe the bullies in his childhood had been right all along, maybe he was in fact inferior to a full blooded Vulcan.

 

_Who was he anymore?_

A blue feathered bird landed on the wooden railing of the deck - Western Scrub-Jay or Aphelocoma californica - Spock recognized and he looked fondly at the tiny marvel of nature. His swing had stopped and he was motionless, so he slowly extended his left hand out, his palms open and the bird cocked his head at Spock. Spock smiled at it with his eyes and it flew and sat on Spock's palm.

 

"Have the skies been kind to you today my friend?"

 

A couple more blue-jays arrived and settled around Spock's feet pecking at the deck's flooring and hopping around with the lightness that comes to beings with simple minds.

The one on his palm decided to explore upwards and one hop at a time climbed up the sleeve of his robe and settled on his shoulders.

"My ears? Aaahh yes...I come from a different nest old friend...one which I believe you would not find desirable...but still you and me, we understand the urge to fly."

 

His friend pecked him on the shoulder and then left him to go back to the railing. It cocked his head one last time in farewell and flew away along with his companions.

Spock raised his hand in goodwill and softly whispered "A human many centuries ago had said 'once you have tasted the taste of sky, you will forever look up' ".

 

The twenty two year old who had yet to find a nest to call his own, rose from the swing and went inside to explore the fascinating collection of books he had spotted yesterday. The answers he sought would not come in a day he knew, that realization didn't lessen the pain of internal conflict he faced though, but then again conflict had been his lifelong ally.

 

There was much to understand, much to explore and it all began with acceptance. Acceptance of his actions, his failings and his continued inability to tear away from the one who slept peacefully as the morning sun steadily climbed up.


	21. Surprise

"We have dedicated transportation to and from the station. You will find it right outside the doors to your left as you exit."

"Cool. I had requested the supplies when I booked?" Jim was leaning with both elbows on the registration counter; he was munching on an apple he had picked from the lobby's center table. Spock stood straight as usual next to him listening keenly to the conversation.

"Yes, I have all your gear ready, right there, and here are your ride-n-dine tickets. If you leave right now you can catch the last departure for today." The gentleman at the reception desk handed Kirk two paper stubs.

"And for the return trip?"

"You don't need tickets, since the train is the only way to reach that campsite. Just be at the platform and you will be picked up. The train runs every 30 minutes from 6 in the morning till dusk."

 

They were standing in the lobby of their inn, both of them dressed in jeans, sweaters, jackets and boots.

"Thank you," replied Jim and went over to the bell stand where two rugged looking backpacks were waiting for them.

 

"May I enquire our destination?" Spock asked with caution.

"Nope! You may enquire nothing! It's a surprise." Jim grinned as he hoisted a backpack and Spock copied Jim's movements.

 

They walked out of the lobby, a second apple in Kirk's hands now. Jim was practically bouncing on his feet filled with excitement and Spock looked gravely concerned.

"I fail to understand why would you desire to withhold information from me."

"That's the fun."

"And what does the 'that' refer to?"

"The look on your face, your reaction."

 

A hovercraft waited for them floating above the ground by the entrance of the inn.

 

Jim climbed in, followed by Spock. There was another couple, older by a decade probably, already seated - both olive skinned - the woman was stunning with long smooth black hair almost to her knees, thick dark eyelashes framed her steel grey eyes. They were holding hands. She smiled up at Jim as he took a seat across. 

"I am Jatalia." The man extended a hand to Jim, and indicating the woman who flashed a smile revealing perfect white teeth, said, "and this is my partner Pachuti." 

"I am Kirk." Jim returned her smile with admiring eyes and was still smiling at her, when he heard a barely audible cough. He looked up at Spock "Oh, and this is Spock".

The Vulcan raised a silent eyebrow at Jim. Jim gave an imperceptible shrug and a sheepish smile spread across his face before he averted Spock's penetrating glare.

 "Where are you boys from?" Jatalia asked good-naturedly.

"I am from Iowa and he is Vulcan. How about you both?"

"We are from the D453 colony on Mars, but our ancestors were from the Pathan region here on earth. We are visiting the home planet for the first time for our honeymoon. Do you live here now?"

 "We actually live in San Francisco so it’s a short drive." Kirk replied.

The woman spoke up for the first time, she had a throaty voice which had a mesmerizing quality to it, "San Francisco...my brother is studying there... are you students?"

Kirk nodded. She brightened up and leaned forward towards Jim, her eyes locked into him.

"My brother is a fourth year at the Academy. He had always wanted to be in StarFleet since he was a kid."

 

The hovercraft's doors closed automatically, it lifted off into the air and sped towards what Jim assumed must be the train station. For the next ten minutes as the silent craft carried them over the Mendocino coastline, they learnt that the couple was both related to StarFleet too. Jatalia was a space engineer for StarFleet’s offshore design plant and when Spock learnt his specialization was warp core the two men launched into a discussion about the wonderful world of warp drive.

Pachuti was both a navigational programmer for Starfleet's branch on Mars as well as an interior designer for constitution class starships. Jim regaled Pachuti with childhood stories from Iowa which made her eyes sparkle with delight. 

Soon they were deposited at a rustic looking long platform which looked straight out of a holovideo from 20th century. The evening sky was clear and there was just a hint of chill in the air.

 

An ear splitting whistle got all of their attention and Jim was thrilled to see a red and black old-style engine thundering towards them, complete with thick white steam bellowing from the top. Spock's eyes widened as the engine came to a stop in front of them. A large group debarked and within seconds the small platform was crowded with backpacks and travelers. There were open-air cars and few closed cars; the small group of people who had been waiting on the platform - all tourists - eagerly rushed to board their choice of cars.

 

Jim had his eye on one of the open cars - it was the fourth one - and he hurried towards it, not wanting to lose their seats. He found two perfect ones and looked back to see Spock's reaction, only to realize there was no Vulcan behind him. Kirk turned in a circle looking for his friend but the rest of the passengers were all strangers. He dumped his backpack on the chairs and stepped down back on to the platform among the milling crowd. Craning his neck both ways, he scanned the entire length of the station but there was no sign of a pair of pointed ears.

 

Getting concerned Jim started walking along the body of the train towards the engine, when a sharp noise rang out and he spotted a man hanging out from the side of the train, waving a flag and shouting something. In spite of his worry, Jim's face lit up at the sight of the conductor's hat and whistle, reminding him of his childhood storybooks. And then, he spotted an unmistakable tall figure hunched on the floor, next to the engine's huge wheels further ahead.

 

"Spock!" Jim shouted not expecting his voice to carry over the crowd and the loud thrum from the boiler but Spock immediately looked up and motioned with his hand.

Jim hurried towards the wheels while his eyes and ears took in the engine's wonderful details as it stood majestically on the tracks.

 

"What the he- what are you doing here?! I was looking all over for you!" He accused as soon as he reached his friend.

"Look Jim, look at this - it's a coupler and here, is the source of its power - cylinders!" Spock spoke almost reverently.

"Your friend here is quite an expert on this ancient system, Mister." Jim suddenly noticed another man kneeling besides Spock, and from his period dressing, he guessed it was the driver himself.

"I am sure he is." Jim replied, shaking his head at the scene of both men looking like children, who had discovered a long lost treasure.

 

"Lugio! What are you doing? Has something broken down?" The man whom Jim had seen hanging from the engine side, was walking towards them now.

"I was just explaining to this gentleman here the mechanics. Hardly anyone shows such interest in what lies under the engine. Everyone is always focused on the outside." Lugio, the driver, spoke wistfully.

 

"That's very romantic Lugio. But ummm....sir, you are holding up the train." This time he spoke to Spock, who was touching the nuts and bolts, oblivious to others. The platform had all but cleared and some of the passengers were peering from the windows looking at the four men huddled by the engine side.

 

"Sorry about that!" Jim apologized to the conductor and grasped the collar of Spock's black jacket and gave a strong tug. "Spock!"

 

Spock reluctantly got up and Jim dragged the Vulcan back to the open car while the conductor pushed his driver towards the front of the engine.

There was another ear-splitting whistle and with a rumble the train started moving.

 

"I confess I am most pleased with your surprise." Spock was seated next to Jim, their shoulders and knees touching lightly, while the train took them deeper into the green mountainside.

"Wait till you see the rest."

Spock's eyes glowed.

"No more engines though, that part is over!" Jim hastened to clarify.

 

Spock crossed his arms and if Jim didn't know any better, he would have bet that the pink lips twisted into a definite pout.

"You know what, next time I will take you to a museum entirely dedicated to steam engines. Deal? Now, give me a smile, pretty please?" Jim leaned and whispered to Spock.

Slanted eyebrows rose up and head tilted to one side, a stern look was directed at Jim. Jim winked back and to his surprise, the tips of two ears turned slightly green.

 

The journey took them along the Pacific coastline, the view of the ocean taking his breath away as the train chugged along, now and then, letting out the loud whistle which made Jim laugh like a boy. Cold breeze blew his hair and when he looked at Spock his heart did a little flip - Spock's perfect bangs were slightly messed up. His friend was busy looking all around at the picturesque surroundings and seemed content in spite of the cold breeze.

 

A man dressed in white overall with light blue stripes approached them and said, "You dinner is ready if you gentlemen will please accompany me."

Jim's stomach suddenly growled with a passion, letting him know how ravenous he was. They were led into a covered car which was obviously heated, its insides lined with tables along the perimeter, covered in elegant clothing and fine china. A single rose in a glass vase stood on each table.

 

The man took them to a table meant for two and Jim slid into the plush seat; Spock taking the one opposite him. "Anything to drink, sirs?"

"Just water will do." Jim replied. The last time he had drunk anything he had landed up in Bones' med bay.

"Do you have tea?" Spock inquired.

"We do, I apologize they are all terran. We have green tea from Japan, earl grey from England and Darjeeling tea from India."

 After noting Spock's choice, he handed them two paper-bound menus and left.

Jim was relieved to see several vegetarian options on it, all of modern century and familiar. On an impulse, he decided to go vegetarian too. Orders placed, they both settled into the luxurious seats admiring the detailed decoration on the walls and roof of the dining car.

 

Spock took the rose from the crystalline vase and examined it closely.

"Do you like roses?" Jim was intrigued.

"It is my preferred choice in flowers."

"Really? I would not have guessed." Jim wondered if Spock knew of the human cultural significance of roses.

"Indeed."

 

 When their dinner arrived, the sun had started setting and the view from their train's window had both of them transfixed. They ate in silence looking out the window, not wanting to miss any part. Jim stole a glance when he was sure Spock wasn't looking - the orange warm sunlight lit up Spock's profile from the side. The tips of his eyelashes caught in the dusky glow, his iris turned to a startling honey color as the light struck them, his bangs lay slightly crumpled - and Jim's breath caught. He had to look away before the sight overwhelmed him.

 

After an hour or so, they reached their destination station - inside Russian gulch state park - and disembarked under the now dark sky.

 

Jim opened his backpack and took out two flashlights and a bug spray bottle. He handed one flashlight to Spock who was watching Jim with a mix of alarm and curiosity, and then sprayed himself all over.

"Close your eyes." He instructed.

"I would ask you for an explanation but you seem determined to carry out this highly illogical notion of a surprise." Spock replied stiffly but closed his eyes obediently.

Kirk sprayed him from top to bottom circling around to make sure he hadn't missed a spot. _Who knew how Vulcan skin reacted to mosquito bites!_

"You got that right." Jim chuckled. "Don't tell me you are scared, Mr. Spock?"

 

"I am not experiencing fear, I am simply unprepared." A chin jut out adamantly.

"Uh-uh." Jim looked at the proud face which showed definite signs of panic.

 

"Okay we are all set." Taking out a map from his pocket, he started explaining ,"We are going to-" ,when he was interrupted by a familiar voice.

"Kirk! Looks like we are headed the same way."

 

It was Jatiala and Pachuti and they had another couple with them. Everyone got introduced to each other one more time and since they were all headed towards the remote campsite, they decided to hike together. Walking in a single file, with Jim leading since he seemed the most experienced in this aspect, and Spock following closely behind, the rest of them proceeded with flashlights illuminating the narrow trail. Outside the circle of bright light cast by the train station, the woods were pitch-dark but the trail was well marked and Jim had no trouble picking his way. It was a chatty bunch and conversations flowed back and forth as they covered the distance in half an hour.

 

A roaring camp fire greeted them when they finally approached a clearing. Jim was aware there were only four campsites in this area and he soon spotted the fourth couple sitting by the fire, the man had a musical instrument that looked a bit like a harp.

While the others got to know each other, Jim pulled Spock aside and spoke in a low voice, "We are going to spend the night out here. This is called camping."

Spock looked around at the others, at the dark jungle surrounding them, at the fire and asked with bewilderment, "I do not see any structure meant for shelter."

"No, in camping we sleep in tents...so what we do is we find a spot a little bit away from this common area...put up a tent and that will be our shelter for tonight."

Spock looked back at the small crowd which had now settled around the fire and someone had started singing a song. "A most interesting concept."

 "Ummm....Good interesting or bad interesting?" Jim tried to read his friend's face but the only light coming from the fire was not enough.

"There is no such thing as good or bad interesting."

"Spock, do you _like_ it? Or are you uncomfortable and are thinking of ways to murder me for dragging you here?"

"Jim! I would never-” The Vulcan's eyebrows had disappeared in his bangs.

"Sorry, I was just being dramatic. Sooooo...do you like it or not?" Jim leaned in closer, hopping from one foot to another in anticipation.

"I have been experiencing a most unusual evening indeed."

"I will take that as a yes. Let's go and hang out with them for a while. It's too early anyways." Kirk turned around and started walking towards the fire where a few had started dancing.

But before he could take a step, Spock placed a hand on Jim's jacket's sleeve and held him back. With a serious expression, he asked, "Are you satisfied? Has your goal of 'surprise' been accomplished?"

Jim's face melted into a fond smile which stretched from ear to ear. "It was for you too, you know."

"I am beginning to understand that." Spock dropped his hand from Jim's elbow.

"Yes, my goal has been accomplished. But you don't have to pretend to like it for my sake. If anything starts bothering you, or you're too cold just let me know, okay?"

"Vulcans can regulate their body temperatures for prolonged periods."

 

Just then one of the men shouted, "Are you two planning to join us or spend the rest of the night whispering?"

 

They walked over and Jim joined in the dancing enthusiastically while Spock found a spot as close to the fire as possible and watched the others. Pachuti danced with graceful sensuous moves, which were no form of dance Kirk knew, but he found it beautiful nevertheless. Her partner Jatiala, the man with the instrument, and Spock were the only ones who didn't join them. The rest all stepped around the fire, clapping their hands in tune with the folksy song the man with the harp-like device sung in a melodious voice. Jim's eyes found Spock a few times and every time they were looking back at him intently.

 

Some of them were drinking passing along the bottle and Jim took a few swigs as well - feeling safe in the anonymity outside of Academy grounds and Spock being nearby. Sometime later, Jim took off his jacket and rolled his sleeves, the energetic dance had warmed him up. The tune changed into a slow song, the words were not standard but a foreign language but it made no difference. The atmosphere of dancing under the stars, on a cold night, with attractive cheerful strangers around a warm fire, transported him into a different world. Pachuti found him and swayed her hips to the tune and Jim responded in kind, both smiling at each other. Jim undid a top button of his shirt; his cheeks felt hot thanks to dancing for so long. Few of the others whistled and hooted at them both.

 

"It is too cold." A firm hand gripped his shoulder and pulled him away.

"What?" Jim was puzzled for a moment.

"Dr. McCoy has forbidden you vigorous activity." Spock was now holding him at the elbow firmly.

"But...it was actually slow dance now!" Jim protested.

" _James._ Bid farewell to them." A severe voice commanded.

 "All right. It's late I guess." Jim was also feeling a little buzzed. So he picked up his backpack and said goodnight to others and his forced departure prompted a few chuckles he noted.

 

They walked some distance away till the light from the fire no longer reached them. Jim switched on his flashlight and wiping the sweat from his face, looked at the map he had brought with him. Spock leaned in. Jim put a finger on the map which showed the location of their private campsite. The moon was out in the clear sky and his eyes slowly adjusted to the silver light all around them. He glanced up to find the North Star and oriented himself according to the contents of the map. Satisfied with his bearings, he folded the paper and stuffed it back.

 

He was handed a bottle of water and Jim smiled back guiltily. Bones had commed him in the evening with dire warnings to keep hydrated. He guzzled down the entire contents and tightened the jacket around his waist. "Ready?"

Spock didn't say anything, instead long fingers reached out to the top of his shirt, and closed the single button.

 

Jim was suddenly on edge, the air around him felt charged; he tried but couldn't make out the expression on Spock's face in the dim moonlight.

"Are you ...ummm...is everything okay?" He actually stuttered when the fingers lingered on his shirt.

"Dancing is illogical." Spock replied in a tone which suddenly reminded Jim of that evening many weeks ago, when they had been studying together,and Valas had inturrupted . He was thoroughly confused.

 

The Vulcan turned around and was already making his way at a rather brisk pace so Jim hastened to keep up. When they reached the edge of the mountain side, where a sign clearly marked the campsite, Spock finally stopped his march.

"I will need your help putting up the tree tent." Jim said timidly, suddenly unsure of what was going in Spock’s mind. He pulled out the folded tent from Spock's backpack.

 

For the next several minutes with Jim giving instructions, they found three strong trees, fastened three corners of their tent and it hung taut few feet above the ground. A rope ladder dangled from an opening in the middle down to the ground. Next, Jim took out bedding from his backpack and flung the entire thing through the hole onto the floor of the hanging tent. Spock had been silent all through the proceedings and Jim was nervous now.

 

"Spock?" he said hesitantly. "Are you mad at me? Is this ...is this...a bad idea?"

Spock blew a breath out softly and came and stood close to him. "I apologize for my behavior. I am not mad at you. Your idea is one of the best I have encountered."

 "Okay then!" Jim was relieved and a grin spread out on his face. "Time to climb up but first I have to pee," he barely suppressed a sudden giggle.

Tilting his head to one side, he looked questioningly, but Spock replied serenely, "Vulcan bodies are designed to conserve water. We ingest and expel water minimally." The giggle could not be contained any longer and feeling like a little boy, who had just learnt an adult joke, Jim walked away to find a private enough spot.

*********************************************************************************************************************************************

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The tree tent - 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was inspired by the idea of tree tent from : https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0213/4326/products/3_tentsile_stingray_air_tree_tent_1024x1024.jpg?v=1487202366.
> 
> It seems futuristic enough ;)


	22. First night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A million billion gazillion thanks to Owyheewinds for agreeing to beta this and future chapters. I am so grateful. Any errors that remain are all mine.

Spock watched Jim toss their backpacks into one corner of their triangle shaped hanging shelter. Next, the young man kicked off his boots, stepped on the rope ladder, and climbed with agility into the tree-tent. Then Jim proceeded to spread a layer of bedding on the floor of the tent, covering two of the other corners. Seeming satisfied with his work, Jim spread himself out on one side of the tent and covered up with the sheet. He then called out to Spock, “Your turn now,” pointing to the remaining unoccupied side. Spock slid off his own boots, climbed up the rope ladder rungs, plopped down on the side as he was told, and began making himself comfortable.

 

However, the entire tent dipped on Spock’s side as soon as his full weight was in it, causing Jim to helplessly slide down and slam whole body into him, followed by both of the backpacks.

Spock let out an involuntary yelp.

The night air reverberated with the sounds of a human’s laughter, and though Spock was suddenly very aware of every inch of a warm body pressing against him, he had to concede that the current arrangement of their bodies was humorous.

 

Wiping tears from his eyes, Jim extracted his limbs from out of the tangled mess and said “So much for my planning! How did you manage to do that? You are all sticks and bones, I must be heavier than you for sure.”

“Vulcans are denser than humans.”

“Wow! You learn something new every day. Okay hold on, let me fix this. Don’t look all panicked like that.” Kirk busied himself with rearranging the contents of their shelter, fighting gravity and trying not to roll into Spock simultaneously.

The final arrangement had Spock on one side of the tent, a section of the insulation bedding rolled into a long cylinder along Spock’s body and Jim next to it, their bodies close but separated by Jim’s makeshift bedding wall and their backpacks hung a safe distance away - down below the small  hatch in the middle of the tent floor.

 

“Well, you’ll have to make do with this.I know I’m invading your personal space like hell, but what’s camping without a little stepping out of the comfort zone, huh?” A pair of eyes sparkled in the moonlight.

 

“This arrangement is adequate,” Spock replied.

 

They lay quietly side by side, a giggle escaping from Jim’s lips now and then, but that too died down; Spock’s hearing adjusted to the silence, and he picked up the serenades of various nocturnal life forms around them. The sky was unspoiled by any light pollution from human civilization, and rich with stars. Spock traced several constellations. The thin layer of bedding Jim had brought was surprisingly warm; Spock was impressed at the degree of insulation it provided.

 

“What are you thinking?” a whisper enquired.

“I was cataloging the differences between the nights I have spent outdoors at our Academy, and our present location. There is - something quite fascinating - about sleeping in nature.”

“Yup. I have missed it.”

Spock turned his head towards Jim and studied his profile. Jim was looking up at the night sky, and seemed lost in his thoughts.

 

“What are you thinking?” Spock mimicked the human phrase.

“I am thinking how do I tell you that I am hungry and my snack bar is in the backpack and getting to it will require another round of tent war.” Jim  turned to Spock, his white teeth flashing in the darkness.

 

“The danger is indeed serious. However, I believe if we work in tandem the solution may be simpler than we fear,” Spock replied solemnly.

“An excellent suggestion, Cadet Spock. Proceed.”

Spock adjusted his body position to offset Jim’s movements, and Jim managed to access the backpack without any incident, successfully finding the prized snack bar.

 

Back to their original positions after couple more minutes of elaborate twisting in mid-air, Jim was happily taking mouthfuls of his bar.

“We make a good team, don’t we Spock?” he mused between bites.

“Yes, Jim.” Spock couldn’t keep his voice from being colored with the warmth and affection he felt towards the Cadet who had inexplicably chosen _him_ in spite of the hundred other choices available, to take on a journey which Spock was beginning to just realize, was going alter his future.

 

“Spock how come you don’t get hungry? You don’t eat, you don’t drink, don’t pee, don’t sleep....how can you survive like that?” a pair of eyebrows were scrunched up in concentration as Jim pointed out the anomalies.

“I do all of those but on a lesser scale than humans. I am after all a different species Jim.”

“True.I forget that sometimes. It’s so easy to be with you.”

“I believe you may be the first one to come to that conclusion.” Spock replied keeping his eyes on the stars visible through the opening between the trees.

 

The snack bar finished, and now with renewed energy Kirk flipped onto his stomach and positioned his chin on his knuckles, his elbows resting on the tent floor.

“What do you mean? You are like the most chill dude I have ever met.”

Spock was silent for some time.  Finally he said, “On Vulcan I was ...considered...difficult. I did not fully understand my peers or...my family.”

“Do you miss them? Your family?” Jim’s voice was gentle.

“Missing someone is a human emotion. So no, I do not miss them.”

“Not even your mom?”

Spock was silent again. _He thought of Amanda often. He wasn_ _’t sure if that was classified as missing her. Even if it was, admitting such a human weakness was hard._ So Spock kept quiet.

 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. I just sometimes worry about you. You must feel lonely, being the only Vulcan. And I worry that there is no one to take care of you.”

Spock’s heart twisted at the words and the care that laced them.

 

“Your concern is misplaced. It is _your_ well-being that I am deeply concerned about.”

“Why?!”

Spock considered how to broach the topic he had wanted to bring up since the moment he had found the note covered in blood.

“It is clear that someone or some ones in the Academy are determined to inflict harm upon you. Your very existence has been targeted with alarming efficiency. I have been trying to find out the identity of the culprit, however it requires you -”

 

 _“_ It’s none of your business! _”_ Jim snapped at him.

 

“Jim?” Spock was taken aback.

 

“You keep your nose out of my personal affairs. Do you understand?” the human spoke viciously.

 

Spock was stunned at Jim’s angry tone. He had never heard the Cadet speak to him in such a manner. True, he had no claim on the Cadet but how could Jim not realize that his life was in jeopardy?

 

He tried one more time. “It is my duty to keep you safe.”

“Bullshit! Your duty is to stop messing in my private matters. I can take care of myself. I don’t need you poking around trying to ID anyone. Have I made myself clear?” The voice was flat and cold. There was no question what Jim wanted.

 

Spock was overcome with the same emotion he had felt all his childhood, every time his father had shunned him, or refused to acknowledge his regard. He retreated into himself and fought to bring his feelings under control.

 

The silence settled like a heavy cloak on them. And then his senses picked up the waves of sentiments pouring out of Jim - anguish, sorrow, guilt and most powerful of them all - fierce protectiveness. To Spock’s surprise and complete puzzlement, there was no anger or resentment emanating from the human, yet the words he had spoken were clearly filled with ire.

 

Jim collapsed from his propped up pose and buried his face into this bent arms.

 

Spock was torn - how had his offer to help ended up causing Jim such distress? He was slowly coming to the realization that he could tolerate humiliation from his peers, rejection from Sarek, abandonment from his community, ridicule from humans - they were all difficult to process but still he had found himself capable of tolerating them - but the one thing he absolutely could not stand was seeing Jim in pain. And to know that _he_ was somehow the cause of this pain - Spock was in agony. He didn’t know what to do, what to say - contrary to what Kirk believed - Spock was clearly _not_ easy to get along. He had no clue how to comfort his human, how to mend the rift which had spawned between them.

 

“Spock?” a muffled voice spoke from the depths of crumpled fabric.

“I am here.” he hoped it was the correct reply. He did not want the anger to return.

“What are you thinking?” the face was still hidden.

“My thoughts are in disarray.” Spock decided to stick with honesty. It was all he had.

 

“Mine too.” A head full of disheveled hair finally raised itself and a pair of eyes regarded him from beneath long eyelashes. The white collared shirt Jim wore caught the moonlight and reflected back. Long shadows played on the face which had haunted Spock’s dreams for weeks now. But even in the darkness Spock could make out a slight flush of red on the pale cheeks and the slightly unfocused look in the human eyes.

 

“You are _beautiful._ ” Jim breathed.

 

This was not at all what Spock had expected and he was thrown back in the abyss of confusing human behavior; terrified of the way this one human being undid all of Spock’s defenses and rendered him completely vulnerable. He was, he realized, at the mercy of the dynamic and volatile mind that inhabited James T. Kirk.

 

The intensity of anguish and sorrow he had felt earlier coming from Jim was lessening. So Spock continued taking refuge in facts.

 

“You are under the influence of human intoxicants,” he replied.

 

A small smile curved on the youthful face and Spock let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

 

“May be I am. A little bit, yeah. Do you think being drunk changes one’s perception of beauty?” The smile lingered.

“I am unaware of the effects of intoxication.”

“Oh? Vulcans don’t get drunk?” a spark of curiosity lit those eyes which held Spock captive.

“Negative.”

 

Jim pursed his lips and whistled softly. “That is _fascinating,_ Mr. Spock! I have to find out what can get you tipsy.”

 

The air around Jim was calm now. Spock could not sense any more of Jim’s emotions. Vulcans were touch telepaths but Spock realized with surprise that he could sometimes read Jim’s emotions even when not in direct physical contact. And tonight was not the first time either. He recalled that, on the night of Jim’s panic attack Spock had detected the young man’s fear even before he had heard his name called. Spock had never experienced telepathy without physical contact but apparently he did with Jim - at least when his human was suffering.

 

He took courage from his new found telepathic abilities and ventured outside fact-speak.

“Why would you desire to endeavor such a course of action?” Spock asked.

 

“To see you drunk?” Jim chuckled, his good mood restored. “Who can resist opening a Pandora’s Box?”

Spock raised an eyebrow at that. “May I remind you that the box in question is purported to harbor evils?”

“Yup. I want to see the evil, unhinged, uninhibited Spock.”

The Vulcan had no answer to that.

 

 

                                                                                                                              *******

 

Jim was starting to feel sleepy. The moon was directly above them now. They had been companionably talking non-stop for hours, the conversations ranging from Astrophysics, to Vulcan teas, to issues facing space exploration, to their new friends from today’s evening. Spock seemed to have recovered from the hurt Jim knew he had no doubt inflicted. But it had to be done, and he was relieved to see that Vulcans didn’t hold grudges.

 

“What is a honey-moon?” Spock was in full inquisition mode. As the night wore on, his questions had become more daring.

“Oh....hmm. You picked that up? It’s a kinda vacation you take after you get married. You know, supposedly your first time together.” Jim had rolled over to face Spock who was staring through the tent’s mesh roof and had his fingers steepled on his chest. _Forever the scientist_ , Jim thought fondly.

 

“Interesting behavior for a bonded pair.”

“Bonded?” Jim flipped onto his stomach again and propped himself on his elbows trying to fight sleep.

“There is no translation to Standard. Loosely speaking, the Vulcan equivalent for the lifelong commitment you term as marriage.”

“I’m not sure if marriage implies lifelong automatically...I mean sure...ideally everyone would like that, but a lot of couples end up separating.”

Spock raised an eyebrow at this revelation.

 

“Are all Vulcan marriages, I mean bondings, permanent?” Jim was curious.

“Yes.” Spock hesitated. “Outworlders may not understand the bond, but in simple terms it is the merging of two minds and souls.”

“That sounds intense.”

 

“What are your plans on marriage?”

 Kirk cringed.”Spock!!...I am nineteen! At my age, we don’t think about such stuff. We are more interested in...exploring.”

“How do humans explore?” Spock seemed determined to get to the bottom of this!

 

“Well...we usually date. We have different relationships, some end well, some don’t. In the process, we are supposed to figure out who we are and what do we want.”

“Have you dated?”

Kirk started blushing and looked down at his clasped hands. “A couple of times in the past, yeah. I am guessing Vulcans don’t date?”

“Negative. Are you currently dating?”

“Huh? Of course not! I mean you would know, right?”

“Would I?” Spock sounded worried.

“Yes!” _What kind of questions were these!_

“Why are you not dating, if your personal growth is dependent upon it?”

“I have no idea,” Jim mumbled.

 

The Vulcan paused and seemed to think over Jim’s answer for few moments. Just when Jim thought Spock was done, his friend restarted his interrogation.

 

“Are all the pairs we encountered earlier...married?”

“May be, may be not. But they are couples, I believe.” Jim replied.

“Are we?”

 

Jim dropped his head and buried his face in the bedding. The danger with Vulcans on a quest for knowledge was they truly had no idea of when to stop.

Spock fell silent. Several minutes passed. Jim almost fell asleep.

 

“Have I caused you distress?”

 

Jim let out a long sigh, and without looking up, said “You never cause me distress. So don’t say that again. The thing...is...I don’t know what we are, Spock. May be it’s friendship...at least for me it is. Sometimes, it feels like we are almost tied by some invisible... _force._ Like we are long lost brothers or something. But yeah, you being Vulcan rules that out for sure.”

 

Kirk looked up with sleepy eyes and couldn’t help but notice the scar on the pink lips. Studying the scar he drowsily continued, “I think of you as my North Star. You keep me grounded. No matter what else is going on in my life, I can count on you. I know Vulcans don’t do friends so I don’t know then ...what am I to you? “

 

Jim reached out and touched the scar with the tip of his thumb, it was healing but the sight of it brought him deep sorrow. “I don’t want to know how I did that to you. I don’t remember anything except that I passed out on the bathroom floor, and next thing I know I was on the bed being tucked in by you. I know I have issues. I don’t know what I said and what you heard but...Well, you are still here with me...” Softly he added “I am sorry I hit you though. I am so, so sorry.”

 

Still looking down at the scar, his finger strayed and started tracing the skin next to the green spot - the skin felt soft and slightly cool. His thumb brushed the lower lip and then started on the upper one. Spock’s lips slowly parted open under Jim’s touch and the dark eyes closed. Desire flooded him. Jim shifted his gaze from the open mouth to the delicately tinted eyelids. When Spock opened his eyes again, the dark pupils had fully dilated and were staring at him unblinking. Jim froze.

 

For an instant all Jim could think of was a predator stalking his prey. Then he jerked back his hand instinctively, caught in the smoldering stare, completely unnerved by the intensity of the alien look coming from Spock.

 

He broke eye contact and glanced down at his hands. The tip of his thumb which had touched Spock tingled slightly. His heart was hammering against his chest - some primal fear had awakened in him in response to the reminder of how little he knew about Spock; at the same time a shock of thrill ran down his spine at the thought of him lying so close with this exotic being - alone in the dark jungle.

 

“Jim, do not fear me. I will never harm you.” Spock’s voice was quiet and when Jim looked up to find those eyes again, they had returned to the characteristic calm brooding state. There was a hint of pain in them.

 

“I don’t fear you...Even when my body reacts differently, I have never feared you. Sometimes I wonder why, because even when I knew nothing about you, I trusted you from the moment we met. I would bet my _life on you_ Spock.”

The pain dulled a bit in Spock’s eyes.

 

“Vulcans do not gamble, but if they did, I would say the same about you.” There was that tiny change in expression which only Jim could read. Spock was teasing Jim, probably in an attempt to calm down his nerves and he chuckled at the sudden thought of Vulcans standing grim faced in a casino.

 

“You didn’t answer my question.” Jim reminded him. Spock didn’t reply immediately.

 

Jim’s heart slowly recovered from the effects of the earlier adrenaline spike, his eye lids grew heavy and he settled down with his head tucked next to Spock’s shoulder.

 

“You are my _las_ _’hark,_ ” a voice full of warmth caressed him.

 

Sleep finally won out; He was too muddled to ask what the word meant, but the sound of his friend’s foreign language soothed him further. Before his consciousness was swept away, he extended the hand he had pulled back minutes earlier across the bulge of fabric separating them and lay it against Spock’s side - where a Vulcan heart beat - and fell asleep like that.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation from Vulcan:
> 
> las’hark      - name for Vulcan’s sun.


	23. Leonard's concern

Spock stood on the edge of the mountain side of their campsite as dawn broke over the distant horizon, his hands behind his back. He had not slept for a single second last night. Instead, he had committed to memory the touch of a human palm as it had laid on his heart.

 

Two days ago, Spock had agreed to accompany Cadet Kirk, not knowing where he was going. And now he did not want to leave. Soon it would be morning, and Jim would wake up and it would be time to return to their lives as StarFleet cadets. They would resume their roles, devote themselves to their training, and pursue a way of life which required sacrifice of the highest order.

 

Spock, son of Sarek, the first Vulcan to join and undergo StarFleet Academy training on a command track, did not have the luxury to let his heart dictate his actions. He was betrothed to T’Pring, lest he forgot. He was also an instructor, and Cadet Kirk was his student. His conduct on Earth would dictate how humankind would view future Vulcans wanting to train alongside humans in the Academy. If he succeeded, he would be the first to serve as an officer on an integrated starship. His actions would set a precedent for young Vulcans on his home planet who dreamt of a path different than their ancestors. He would either bring shame to his race, his family, his home planet, or he would clear the path for the two planets to accept each other’s youth and change StarFleet’s Charter forever. His personal needs could not be greater than his duties.

 

Jim was like a bright star. His life was just beginning, and if there was one thing Spock’s intelligence and observation had concluded, it was this - James T. Kirk would go on become one of the brightest stars in StarFleet. In spite of the youngster’s immense maturity, Spock had to remember a human male of nineteen was still a child. A child of the human world. 

 

And Spock would always be a child of two worlds. This was his path. From the day he was born, he had always walked alone.

 

They were going to be public figures and their personal lives were going to be intertwined with their professional lives. Spock realized with a pang of sorrow that their paths could not cross; their worlds could not coexist, on any planet or in any society.

 

He had watched many sunrises in his life. Eridani and Sol both had their own beauty. But never before had the morning sun found him standing on the crossroads of his life like this, knowing that the Spock who had arrived here two days ago, was not the same who would be leaving. As long as he would breathe, he would yearn for the touch of a human with a heart so big, and passion so radiant, it rivaled any sun.

 

Jim affected him in a way that he had not experienced before. He had never desired anyone. When Jim had touched him in the tent, his body had reacted without him being able to control it. The centuries old Vulcan instincts had come alive in his eyes, if only for a moment. Spock had been able to put a leash on his hunger but in those few seconds he had seen naked fear on Jim’s face; and he had felt the human’s alarm through the touch of Jim’s fingers on his lips. Spock was used to being rejected when he showed his true emotions.

 

If what Spock had seen in Jim’s memories during the mind meld was any indication, his human had every right to be frightened. But then, Jim had gone ahead and tossed his fear aside like a rag. He had fallen asleep next to Spock anyway; laying a warm hand on his Vulcan heart, in a gesture that moved Spock profoundly. Instead of pulling away at Spock’s display of raw instincts, Jim had simply accepted them.

As long as his _katra_ lived, he would remember this first innocent night with a man, who showed Spock, what it truly meant, to trust someone.

 

                                                                                                                              ***********

 

“What are you doing standing there?” Jim called out from inside their cottage. It was afternoon, and they were about to leave their cottage to head back to San Francisco. Jim had somehow managed to spread his possessions all over the cottage, in spite of them spending hardly one full day in it. Right now he was hunting for a lost sock.

 

Spock was standing on their cottage’s private deck, looking at the trees swaying the wind. He took a last look at the rocky cliff below, where they had sat two days earlier; at the tree where he had taken shelter from the rain; at the spot where Jim had stood soaking and had awoken the beast in Spock. He committed all these to memory. In his right palm, he held the metal key to the cottage door, a reminder of what these two days had meant to Spock. He silently slipped the key into his pocket, and then stepped inside with a calm face betraying nothing.

 

“Let’s go. The hovercraft must be waiting.”  Jim was ready with his bag on his shoulders.

Spock picked up his own bag, and together they crossed the threshold and closed the door behind them.

 

                                                                                                                    ***********

Leonard watched his two breakfast companions. The Vulcan was silent and brooding, but that was no surprise. Though he did seem even more silent than usual. But Jim? What could be up with him? Leonard couldn’t put a finger on it, and that bothered him. Kirk’s body had healed up, one of the many perks of youth. But it was not his physical health that McCoy worried about.

 

Sometime after they had first met, Jim had requested McCoy be made his primary care physician, and so he had read up on Jim’s file. Beneath that handsome exterior, the boy hid some dark secrets. His file was flagged with PTSD, rape, eating disorder, trauma and severe depression in the past. All of those occurred over a period of two years.

 

Curiously though, the details regarding those years were sealed. When Leonard had requested clearance to access this,he had been firmly told by StarFleet that Kirk had been cleared and deemed emotionally healthy by multiple authorities. Access to Jim’s past was apparently above Lenoard’s pay grade, and he should let it go.

 

That didn’t stop Leonard from worrying. With such a history, a man could be expected to give up on life. Remarkably, Jim had not. One of the biggest issues faced by such victims was an inability to trust again. But Jim seemed, if anything, _too_ trusting, considering he had picked up the lone Vulcan in the entire Academy. May be it was his youth, or may be that’s who he was.

 

It took a special person, an immensely very brave soul, to keep having faith in humanity, and this alone had earned Jim, McCoy’s highest respect. Combine that with the hard work, brilliance and good humor - McCoy knew he had stumbled upon an uncut diamond, though he would never say that to the teenager’s face. Theirs was a friendship disguised under witty insults and sarcastic banter.

 

So when the first panic attack had happened, Leonard had been extremely concerned. As the days progressed into weeks, Jim had shown all the signs and symptoms of falling into depression. As his doctor, McCoy was almost convinced to call him for a psych eval. But then Jim had recovered. It didn’t escape McCoy that his remission coincided with the weekend when his young friend had taken a day long hike with the Vulcan.

 

This second attack had been near-fatal. With any other patient, McCoy would never have allowed him to go off to a remote vacation spot so soon after, with a stiff lipped alien. But he had grudgingly accepted that Jim and Spock had formed a unique friendship, and so he had allowed it. He thought he had done the right thing. The first day they had shown up after the break - Jim looked healthy and positively radiated happiness.

 

However, as he watched the two interact right now, he distinctly felt something had changed. At first he hadn’t noticed. Hell, he had far more pressing matters to think about. But by the third day, he was forced to realize that Spock had started leaving their table before, McCoy was done eating. It was probably nothing. After all, the infamous Vulcan was juggling an impossible study load coupled, with teaching duties. But his eyes caught the way Jim’s face fell every time Spock left. Slowly, Jim’s good mood was evaporating and this had McCoy losing sleep again. But Jim wouldn’t talk, and there was nothing medically wrong with him, so really, Leonard was left fiddling his thumbs.

 

It had been nine days now, since the green blooded hobgoblin had started acting mysteriously. Today, as Spock stood up, barely spending ten minutes with them, and uttered his usual formal parting words, Jim’s eyes had flickered for a moment with that same pained expression. McCoy made up his mind.

 

 _Dammit_ ! He would have to talk to the poker face Vulcan, if he was going to be such an important part of Jim’s life. Well, the Vulcan _had_ shown impressive loyalty. McCoy suspected that Spock probably cared as much about Jim, as he himself did, but the Vulcan would never admit it, of course. He probably had no clue that his recent aloofness was causing Jim distress. Leonard sighed.

 

After the breakfast, while he walked back to the medical building for his first shift, he commed Spock.

“ _I would like to talk to you about Jim. Please drop by when you have few minutes.”_

The reply was immediate.

_“I will see you at 1430 today, Doctor.”_

 

Later that afternoon, Leonard was busy finishing up patient charts at his terminal in the doctor’s lounge, when a knock announced Spock’s arrival at precisely 1430. McCoy wondered if Spock had been waiting outside, till the time was exactly right to knock. He wouldn’t put it past the crazy Vulcan.

“Come in, Mr. Spock” he drawled, and logged off from his screen.

There was no one else in the lounge at the moment, so he could talk here in privacy.

 

The tall slim Cadet stepped in and stood rigidly.

“Have a seat.” McCoy gestured with his hands and Spock sat down on the edge of the seat, his back erect.

 

McCoy had never been good at small talk, and he wasn’t going to attempt it now with a species famous for their lack of that very skill. So, he went right to the point.

“What do you know about PTSD, Mr. Spock?”

 

One of the slanted eyebrows went up. “I believe you had summoned me to discuss Cadet Kirk, Doctor?”

 

“Humor me, Spock” Leonard intoned.

“It is a mental disorder affecting humanoids that can develop after a person is exposed to a traumatic event, such as sexual assault, warfare, space accidents, or other threats on a person’s life.”

 

“Exactly.” McCoy leaned his elbows on the desk and clasped his hands. He continued, “Now, _theoretically_ speaking, suppose a young man, a brilliant and brave guy, is exposed to such events, specifically rape and warfare, at a very young age. But the circumstances which were responsible for these crimes are later resolved. He receives timely intervention and all is good. Now in such a case, it is possible that he would recover, and go on to live a highly functioning life. He may not forget, but he can learn to live with it and not be crippled by it.”

 

Spock was listening intently.

 

So, McCoy continued, “However, let’s say, years later something were to happen - maybe an attempt on the young man’s life - how do you think the man’s psyche would react?”

“His symptoms could resurface.” Spock replied slowly.

 

McCoy nodded in agreement. “Now if the young man also had the misfortune of having no family to speak of, this would place him in a very vulnerable position. So if I were such a youngster’s friend, I would be _very_ careful. I would make sure not to act or say anything which could potentially trigger my friend. Are you with me so far, Mr. Spock?”

 

Spock was silent and McCoy studied him. The Vulcan was extremely intelligent of course, but McCoy was not sure if his roundabout way of speaking would escape the very literal Spock. His fears were proven wrong, when Spock spoke next. “Yes. Thank you Doctor.”

 

“What would his triggers look like?” Spock asked.

 

“Everyone is different. It depends entirely on the individual. In this hypothetical case, though the war may have stopped, the other factor - sexual assault - is not as easy to handle. He may interpret the smallest of gestures, as rejection. Or he may go on to develop unhealthy sexual habits as a way to cope. Or, he may develop a particular fear only of men but not women. Hard to say. Some victims feel guilty for even sexually desiring someone. PTSD is a tricky disorder Mr. Spock. It can come back to bite your ass in ways you never expect.” McCoy leaned back in his chair.

 

“I see.” Spock looked paler, if that was possible.

 

“But that’s not really the point. My take home message is - his _friends_ have to tread carefully around his emotions, till the youngster is out of the woods.”

 

Spock nodded, and stood up.

 

“Was there anything else you wished to discuss, Doctor?” he asked.

“How is Jim?”

“You are better qualified than me to answer that.”

“I don’t deny that, but I am asking _you,_ Spock, how is Jim? _”_ McCoy pointed a finger.

 

Spock hesitated and then replied, “Cadet Kirk seems to be recovering well.”

“Let’s hope it keeps that way, and this lunatic is apprehended. Jim is an exceptionally strong man but he needs us right now.” McCoy was already turning back towards his terminal.

 

The Vulcan turned, and smartly walked out of the doctors’ lounge.

 


	24. Honor

 “My brain is fried!” Jim declared and threw up his hands dramatically in the air.

 

Spock looked up at him with an eyebrow raised, rested his pen on the paper and leaned back on his chair with an air of resignation. The table was covered with notes and diagrams and their PADDs. They had been working at their joint report for last four hours straight, in their reserved room, this time in the library.

 

Their report was almost ready, but the final touches were proving to be tedious. 

 

Jim looked at Spock with a smile on his face. He had been feeling something was off lately, and it was eating away at him. Ever since they had been back from their trip, Spock seemed distant. It bothered Jim that he was being so sensitive about it. He tried to tell himself that it was all his imagination, but Jim had felt sick - physically sick - on the days when he had hardly seen Spock, except their short breakfasts. Bones had forbidden any morning runs so that his body would have a chance to recover completely.

 

It was the beginning of October and the quarter was coming to a wrap. The study load was insane.

 

But right now, he couldn’t remember why he had been so worried. Just being next to Spock for the last four hours, in addition to sitting in his lecture today morning, made Jim feel whole again. In spite of this having been a long day, he felt thoroughly energized.

 

Spock was in black, not the usual red cadet uniform. Jim was proud of himself that he had been able to work with complete concentration the last few hours- because _that_ black uniform on Spock - a lesser man would not have survived. In fact he was sure it would be the death of him one day! Jim ran a finger through his hair; his cap was on the table. He sighed contently. Spock of course, was a picture of formality in a public place like a library, not a hair was out of place.

 

“Does your brain ever give up, Spock?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

 

“Negative. Yours does not either, since you would cease living, if such an event were to occur.” Spock replied deadpan.

 

“I disagree. Mine absolutely gives up from time to time, like now, and all I can think of is a comfy soft bed calling to me.” Jim insisted with a teasing smile.

 

“Inanimate objects do not 'call' -" Spock had started, but Kirk cut him off.

“Oh yes they do, Mr. Spock! Most certainly they do! Haven’t you experienced the siren call of a scoop of ice cream topped with hot fudge on a hot summer day? Or the call of -”

This time Spock cut him off with a tiny sigh, which is as close as Vulcans came towards expressing exasperation.

 _Bingo!_ Jim was even more proud of himself for driving Spock up the wall. It was his favorite past time, when he needed a break from the intense workload and stress he was under.

 

“I win!” he said triumphantly, and got up to stretch his torso, to the extent it would let him.

 

“Your behavior, when your brain is “fried”, is most illogical.” Spock said with dignity.

 

“Ahhh, Mr. Spock, but you secretly love it, I know it. What fun would I be to you, if I was as logical as you?” Jim replied with a huge grin. This was their private way of communication - a dance almost - and Jim enjoyed their bantering. He knew Spock enjoyed it too, else he would not be still sitting here. That made it more endearing.

 

Jim suddenly stopped extending his limbs, and pointed an accusing finger at Spock. “Wait a minute! Spock have you actually ever eaten an ice cream? The real thing?”

 

“I have not, and do not plan to.”

 

“How can you call yourself a good scientist, if you declare the results without even conducting the experiment?” Jim spoke in a serious voice.

 

Spock straightened up from his semi-reclined pose. His scientific skills were being challenged, and Jim knew Spock could never let that go. _Bingo again!_ Jim was on a roll tonight.

 

“What experiment are you referring to?” Spock asked cautiously.

 

“I hypothesize that a hot fudge sundae can indeed call your name.”

 

Before Spock could protest, Jim pressed on, “I propose, that like a good scientist, you should first indulge in real ice cream without bias, and afterwards draw conclusions about the power of said inanimate object.”

 

“And how do you propose this experiment be conducted?” Spock knew he had been cornered.

 

“Well, to find the real thing, we would have to leave Academy. So….I would say ….” and then a brilliant idea struck Jim. He continued with excitement, “in Idaho!”

 

“Idaho?” Spock was puzzled.

 

“Yup! Right from the source. Nothing less than fresh made ice cream will suffice. After all, the reputation of the human species is at stake here, Mr. Spock. No Vulcan should ever be able to say, that they did not experience the finest of what Earth has to offer.” Jim was enjoying himself immensely as he saw Spock was truly confused now.

 

“What is in Idaho?”

 

“My uncle’s cabin and farm, my childhood summer home. I want to take you there someday. Will you come?” Jim’s tone was earnest now.

 

“To conduct this experiment?”

 

“And to show you the mountains, the fields, the cows, the horses, the stars in dark skies…,” Jim’s words became wistful, as his gaze went to a place far away.

 

Spock fell silent.

 

The Vulcan rose from his chair and started gathering up his notes and PADD. Jim did the same, glancing surreptitiously at Spock the entire time. He put on his red cadet cap back on and they both exited the library building together. It was late evening outside, the sun had already set but the last vestiges of its light lingered in the western horizon. Other Cadets were walking around, some hurrying to their next destination, some lounging on the green grass.

 

“It will be my honor.” Spock finally replied, his expression inscrutable.

 

“I promise to take you, then,” Jim said, but wondering if it was out of politeness that his friend had agreed.

 

Jim thought of his uncle’s cabin and the farm in Idaho, absent mindedly walking with Spock. The family farm and the little cabin on the mountains were his now, with both his parents gone, and Sam not intending to return to Earth. It was too big for a single person, but Jim didn’t plan to sell it off. It was the only place he could call home, and the only place he associated with happy memories. The summers spent there were the last time he was innocent. Those mountains had seen him spend endless hours hiking, climbing, and dreaming of a life in the stars. He had spent nights alone in the little cabin among the snow-capped peaks.

 

He had never invited anyone to his uncle’s cabin before. Maybe he would invite Bones, someday. The thing was - he wanted to take Spock with him after their semester-end, over the winter break. Now, he wasn’t sure if he had done the right thing to ask Spock, or if Spock had even _wanted_ to spend the winter break with him.

 

“Are you well?” Spock’s quiet voice interrupted his thoughts.

“What?.....oh, yes. Yes, I am well. I’m sorry. I was just thinking.” Jim realized he had been uncharacteristically silent for the last twenty minutes.

Their heels clicked on the brick pathway in unison, as the two trainees walked through the evening chill air. The grounds were getting quieter.

 

 

“Well, well, well....Jimmy boy, I didn’t know you had a new boyfriend now.” A voice speaking with an Irish accent reached their ears. A tall young man was sauntering up to them from behind, projecting an air of supreme confidence. Jim instantly tensed. It was Finnegan, the upper classman who had become a major pain in the ass.

 

“Spock, ignore him. Just keep walking.” Jim muttered under his breath.

Spock said nothing.

“You know, it’s too bad about your last boyfriend, Jimmy boy. I was rooting for him.” Finnegan walked hurriedly and after overtaking them, started walking backwards facing them, blocking their path.

 

“You don’t know what you are talking about. Practical jokes are one thing. Making fun of a real tragedy is NOT acceptable.” Jim replied tightly.

“Always fight fair, don’t ya? True officer and gentleman.” Finnegan jeered. “May be you were too much of a gentleman and the little Russian got bored. This one you got here, looks like he may be as boring as you.”

 

Jim felt his temper starting to rise dangerously. But he knew he was being baited, so he fought to maintain his cool. _Words,_ he told himself, _just words._

“C’mon, plebe! Come on, come on! Show me some emotion. Did your mother not teach you how to cry?” Finnegan grinned maniacally, like a clown.

Jim kept walking.

“Maybe she tried. Can’t blame her entirely for the loser you are. Did you get those pretty eyes from her, Jim baby? Huh? Did you learn how to eye fuck from her?”

 

Jim still didn’t react. Finnegan could go rot in hell.

“I guess eye fucking is all you can manage, if you are stuck with _this freak show,_ here. I don’t know what you see in him, Jimmy boy - not even human!” The young man pointed a finger at Spock and bared his teeth in a ghoulish smile.

 

“Finnegan!” Jim warned.

“Whoo hoo, ha ha ha. I will tell you a secret, Jimmy. Do you know why he is the only one here? Of his kind?” Finnegan dropped his voice and spoke in a mock-whisper, “He was kicked out from his planet. A reject. No one wants him. Just -”

 

 

Jim lost it. He aimed a vicious blow at the man’s jaw, intending to break it so he could never speak again.

Cold steel fingers closed around his wrist and stopped him before he made contact. Jim struggled against the hold, wanting nothing more than to beat the pulp out of Finnegan, but he was no match for the iron grip.

 

“Go back to your planet, you ape!” Finnegan sneered at Spock.

Jim’s insides twisted at those words. He was beside him with rage, but the death grip on his wrist only tightened, starting to almost crush his bones.

 

“Cadet Finnegan, I am Instructor Spock. Unless you want a permanent disciplinary action on your record, I suggest you return to your quarters immediately.” Spock spoke in a flat voice, devoid of all emotions.

 

Finnegan’s confidence faltered for the first time, as his eyes registered the color of Spock’s uniform. He said uncertainly, “Instructor? Is he serious?” looking at Jim.

 

“You have 5 seconds to make up your mind.” Spock’s voice cut the air like a knife.

 

Finnegan didn’t waste any more time. He started backing up, first slowly, then picking up speed and finally turning around, disappearing into the mist. Spock immediately released Jim’s wrist.

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

Jim rubbed his wrist absently, as he focused on breathing and bringing himself under control. He was trembling, he realized. _Well, that’s not good._ He _knew_ Finnegan was all talk. Finnegan had been trying to rile him up since months now but Jim had maintained his composure. Apparently this time, Finnegan had managed to touch a raw nerve.

 

 

After several minutes of walking, while Jim was lost in his thoughts and blindly followed Spock, they reached what looked like a rose garden. Jim didn’t recall ever coming here before. It was hidden away from the rest of the property, tucked into a corner of the campus. A low fence made of lattice ran all around the little garden, covered with rose vines of all varieties. They entered through a trellised archway.

 

Spock silently guided Jim to a bench to sit down on. Spock remained standing. Once Jim felt like he could talk again, he turned towards Spock, not quite meeting his eyes. There was no easy way to take back the ugly words spoken into the once quiet night.

 

“Spock, I am sorry. He is an asshole, a total asshole. He has been after me for months now, I am sorry you had to hear all that, and get involved because of me,” Jim said in a low voice, looking down.

“Indeed, I am forced to agree that he did resemble that part of the anatomy.”

Jim smiled weakly. _Spock was trying to cheer him up. Even after what had just happened._

 

“However, please do not place undue stress upon yourself. I am, as he correctly pointed out, not human, and hence his words do not affect me, the same way they do you.” Spock’s voice was gentle.

 

“Maybe they don’t.” Jim admitted. “But he did insult you, and spoke garbage about your background.”

Jim took a deep breath and spoke with all sincerity, “You do know you are welcome here, don’t you? I mean, I know you are the first Vulcan to join the Academy, train with us humans, and I am sure the Vulcans are darn proud of you for that!  He doesn’t speak for all humans, Spock.”

 

Jim rose and started pacing back and forth. “We are StarFleet cadets! It’s our diversity which makes us stronger. What’s the use of Garth winning the battle all the way in Axanar, if we are losing it here, in the very birthplace of future leaders? What’s the use of you and me slaving over our inter-galactic peace paper, when people like _him_ can get away with talking such filth? He...” Jim desperately wanted to erase away those hurtful words from Spock’s mind.

 

“Please, listen to me. I have chosen my own destiny. The decision is mine alone. Neither Vulcan disapproval nor Human mockery affected that decision,” Spock replied.

 

“Vulcan disapproval?...what are you saying?” Jim stopped pacing and came over to stand in front of his friend.

Spock spoke slowly, “Cadet Finnegan speaks with unnecessary emotion but the circumstances of my joining the Academy were not entirely pleasant. Although we are one of the founding members, you must be aware that Vulcans have so far only had all-Vulcan ships and crew. My father wanted me to join the Vulcan Science Academy, as is the tradition of my family. However, I chose to follow a path which deviates from my ancestors. He has ceased communication with me as a result.”

 

Kirk was shocked.

“Spock,” he whispered. Jim had never known until that moment, the extent of isolation his friend endured.

 

“An earth philosopher once said, ‘If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer...”  Jim spoke quietly.

“Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away.” Spock completed and they stood looking at each other.

 

Jim started pacing again. “I can’t just let this go. He must pay for his crime. There can be no bigotry in StarFleet. This has gone far beyond practical jokes now.” Finnegan’s words ran through Jim’s mind and he slammed a fist into his other palm. “That piece of shit! He doesn’t deserve to walk away. I am going to crush every bone in his body, rip his fu-”

 

“ _Jim_.” The deep voice went straight to Jim’s core.

All the rage left Jim at Spock’s gentle reprimand. In its wake, what was left was profound grief - for his friend, for humankind that still harbored demons from its past, for the future of his beloved StarFleet.

 

Spock led Jim back onto the bench and Jim sat down heavily. Holding his head in both his hands, he leaned over, elbows on his thighs. He struggled to contain the waves of emotion. He was usually much better at restraining himself, but tonight he was really falling apart. 

Spock dropped to the ground on one knee, in front of Jim, took off his black hat and placed it on the bench beside him.

 

“I am sorry, I don’t know what has come over me. I’m a mess.” Jim said lamely.

“You are entitled to be a ‘mess’.”

 

Jim looked up at Spock. He desperately wanted to reach out, to touch, to comfort - to let his friend know what he was feeling. But this was probably the worst way to humanize the moment; what felt natural to Jim was the opposite for the Vulcan. Unable to do anything else, he simply filled his mind with all that he felt for Spock, hoping his eyes would convey the message. To Jim’s surprise, Spock gasped as if someone had taken his breath away.

 

A thought struck Jim, “But how does _he_ know so much about you?”

“I intend to find out.” Spock replied grimly.

 

“By the way, thank you for saving me from myself. If I had hit Finnegan, it would not have really solved anything. Violence should never be the first choice, though we humans tend to forget that, in the heat of the moment. What would I do without you, Spock?” A weary smile spread on Jim’s face.

 

Spock didn’t say anything. Instead, at the reminder, slender fingers reached out and picked up Jim’s right wrist, turned it over and examined it closely.

 

Jim went absolutely still. His wrist was beginning to turn an ugly purple-red where Spock’s fingers had restrained him earlier. Spock’s fingertips lightly brushed over the inflamed skin, and Jim’s breath hitched before his brain could process his own reaction. _Get a hold on yourself! This is hardly the time or place!_

But his pulse sped up, and with every passing second that Spock cradled his wrist, Jim became acutely aware of the soft black hair reflecting the moonlight, the broad shoulders filling the Academy uniform, the long and muscular legs. Spock seemed unaware of the turmoil brewing inside him. _He is just checking you for injuries, that’s all,_ Jim reminded himself severely. But his heart kept beating furiously, showing no desire to listen to his brain. Jim fought the temptation to curl his hand into a fist, in frustration.

 

 Spock’s head was bent over Jim’s hand and the dark eyebrows were bunched up at the sight of the bruise. He looked very unhappy, by Vulcan standards.

 

Spock opened his mouth but Jim knew what was coming, so he cut in, “Oh no! You don’t get to feel sorry for this! Not after all we have said. This is _nothing!_ ”

Spock averted his gaze.

“Spock?” Jim pressed.

“I am aware of my superior strength, yet I acted irresponsibly. My controls failed me. If I had continued applying my full strength, the damage would have been ...” Spock was speaking to the ground now, still holding Jim’s wrist.

 

Kirk was furious.

“Seriously? Are you _kidding_ me?! You are being absurdly illogical now. You acted _exactly_ as you should have. Mr. Spock, you will stop feeling sorry for me and yourself - right now!” Jim thundered in a voice laced with steel.

Jim could see Spock was taken aback at the sudden command tone in his voice.

 

“You are right of course, my concern is misplaced.” The Vulcan replied.

“Your _guilt_ is misplaced, and I won’t have that. But your concern is always welcome. Do you understand me?” Jim leaned in.

“I do. I also believe that the work you and I are doing together, will help change the perception held by people like my father and Cadet Finnegan.” Spock inclined his head towards Jim and continued, “Jim, do not let the hatred spread by him touch you. Evil cannot spread without followers. I see no one following Finnegan. A great Captain, on the other hand, inspires loyalty. And I have already seen you accomplish that feat. Not just from humans, but from an Andorian like Cadet Valas, and a Vulcan, like me. I am honored to be in your company.”

 

Jim was floored by his friend’s faith in him. “As I am in yours, Spock,” he whispered.

 

They sat there like that, looking at each other, their faces inches away - for how long Jim didn’t know, until his wristband beeped. It was his reminder for submitting his Biochemistry, and three other assignments. All of which were due that midnight - the last assignments of the quarter. Jim looked down and said in a wistful voice, “I don’t want this evening to end, but duty calls. Exams start tomorrow. Don’t worry if you don’t see me for a while, okay? I tend to go a little crazy during exams.” And then he softly added, “I will miss you, though.” He reluctantly tried to free his wrist.

 

Spock didn’t reply, but didn’t let go of Jim’s hand. The Vulcan just kept gazing, with an expression that Jim couldn’t identify. His heart started beating wildly. He forgot where he was, who he was, under that gaze and something inside him sung in resonance. A slight breeze blew, infusing the air with the scent of roses. Finally, Spock closed his eyes and let go of Jim’s hand. The Vulcan picked up his hat, put it back on, and they stood up together.

 

Moonlight filtered through San Francisco’s haze. The grounds were completely deserted, with everyone probably indoors. They walked back slowly, their steps as always in sync, their shoulders almost touching. When they reached the point where they were about to go their separate ways, Spock took Jim’s other wrist - the good one - and brushed his fingers lightly over the exposed skin. Jim’s breath hitched again.

The Vulcan turned and walked away without another word.

 

Jim stood under the stars in the cold night, watching the retreating figure for a long time, until he remembered his assignments. On his way back to his room, he came to three conclusions. Something was bothering Spock. Secondly, Jim was not going to let Finnegan get away. But first, he would devote 100% of his efforts to acing the exams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:  
> Episode reference for Finnegan - “Shore leave” ,Star Trek TOS.


	25. Long nights

Spock sat at his study desk in his apartment, wearing traditional Vulcan apparel.  He reviewed the document he had been working on with Cadet Kirk earlier that evening, one last time. In spite of what Number One had said, it was Jim who had contributed majorly to the final product. The Cadet possessed a remarkable ability to translate highly complex and abstract ideas into simple, plain terms. Spock was proud of their finished paper. He sent it off to Number One.

 

It was late night, and he should be meditating. But he logged into the StarFleet database, using his instructor privileges, and pulled up the file titled ‘Finnegan’.

 

Full name: Sean Finnegan

Gender:  Male

Species: Human

Affiliation: Federation Starfleet

Status: Active (2252)

Born: 2232, Waterloo, Iowa, Earth.

 

Mother: Sarah B. Finnegan (formerly Sarah Burke)

Father: John Finnegan

 

Academy specialization: Intelligence operations, Encryption, Computers.

 

The rest of the file listed his education and training leading up to his admission to StarFleet - 25 long pages of it. Spock rose from his desk and went to his tiny kitchen, to make himself a cup of Vulcan tea. Tea in hand, he returned to the desk and settled in for a long night.

 

When morning broke over San Francisco, Spock had just finished reading the entire file. He decided to take a break, and went to the bathroom to refresh. Afterwards, he changed into his morning running gear and left his apartment. It was a gloomy morning and the forecast predicted rain all afternoon. When he reached the base of the hill, instead of scaling it as he usually did, he simply turned around. Spock knew Jim wouldn’t be joining him, but that didn’t stop the surge of illogical disappointment that washed over him.

 

There would be no classes starting that day, due to campus wide examinations. The first years were all busy with these examinations, which would span three weeks. He had been told that the first year exams were designed to be the toughest for students and 45% of trainees failed them. Of those who failed, only 13% were considered qualified to take the remedial classes for the remainder of the year, and then allowed one more attempt at passing the exams. The rest were dismissed from StarFleet. The ones who successfully passed the first time, spent the last two months of the year training in space flight simulations.

 

Spock himself had no trouble undergoing these examinations, when he joined StarFleet, but his scores were considered outliers - being several standard deviations beyond any Cadet in its history. The study plan designed by Number One exempted Spock from taking these exams. He had already cleared the equivalent of third year levels, and his computer expert classification was A7 - the highest one could attain. Spock was satisfied to see Jim was taking the exams very seriously. The new ad-hoc schedule his Cadet intended to follow during this period was apparently a by-product of this effort.

 

Back in his apartment, Spock took a sonic shower. Jim had warned him that he would not be having breakfasts for the next three weeks at a regularly scheduled time, so Spock saw no point in going to the cafeteria. A fresh cup of tea in hand, Spock went to the wall behind his study desk and stood looking at it, while he sipped his tea. The wall was covered with little slips of colored paper. On each was listed a fact, written in Spock’s neat hand.

 

22 August A.M. - Cadet Kirk shows up late to class. Missing PADD.

22 August P.M. - The only time Cadet Kirk submits an assignment after deadline, late at night.

22 August - Cadet Ivanov - Kirk’s roommate - is attacked by unknown suspect.

23 August - Cadet Ivanov leaves StarFleet.

20 September P.M. - Cadet Kirk is seen holding sparring lesson for his batch mates. Mentions “harassment” by upper classman.

27 September A.M. - Cadet Kirk collapses during morning run.

27 September P.M - Dr. McCoy discovers neuroparalyzer in Kirk’s bloodstream.

27 September P.M - Note found in Cadet Kirk’s room.

28 September - Cadet Kirk experiences panic attack. First mind-meld reveals past physical and emotional abuse, and an “incident” that took place in Cadet Kirk’s room. Details of the “incident” could not be obtained during the brief meld.

10 October P.M - Cadet Kirk is verbally provoked and harassed by Cadet Finnegan.

 

For the past several days, Spock had been trying to make sense of the facts  he had at hand. But in the last twelve days especially, since their return from their trip, he had been using every available minute, foregoing sleep and food multiple times, in an effort to uncover the identity of the culprit. Despite Jim’s outright rejection of any interference in this matter, Spock was ashamed that he could not stop himself. In fact, anxiety over Jim’s safety had almost taken over his sanity. For every moment, that Jim was out of his sight, Spock was overcome by worry. And now it seemed he would not be seeing Jim regularly for weeks. The fear of something happening to Jim was his first thought in the morning, his last one at night. It haunted him every second and threatened to cripple him.

 

So, Spock had no choice but to conduct his investigation without telling Jim.

 

He looked at his list on the wall and tried to find a pattern. Unable to see any connections, he went back to his terminal and began reading Cadet Finnegan’s file from the start. By afternoon, rain started pounding against the windows of his apartment, but Spock heard nothing - so completely engrossed was he in his reading. By evening, he had found an interesting tidbit, buried deep in the layers of information, which stood out to him.

 

Other qualifications: A-5 certification.

 

An A-5 for a fourth year human was exceptional. Cadet Finnegan seemed to have significant expertise in computers. His buffoonish manner last evening, then, must have been a ruse, in a deliberate attempt to hide his true intelligence. The need for this deception was a red flag for Spock. Next, he tried to pull up the cadet’s psychological profile. But here, he met failure. His instructor privileges did not allow him access to medical and other sensitive data.

 

Spock finally rose from his study desk, and stretched his body. He had eaten only a bowl of soup in the last 38 hours. He forced himself to prepare a simple meal of fresh salad, then changed into terran clothing, and left the apartment.

 

The evening sky greeted him, wearing glorious colors, but he found no beauty in it tonight. The afternoon rains had left every surface damp, and droplets fell from tree branches as he walked under them. His feet took him to his cherished rose garden, which was also showing signs of the changing weather. The hybrids were enjoying a second bloom season; the old varieties, which were prized for their historical value, were done for the year. They would sprout buds the next spring. Spock knew a lot about roses, even before making Earth his home. Amanda was particularly fond of these beautiful flowers. He had spent many childhood evenings learning to tend to them in her rose garden on Vulcan. Those quiet moments spent with his mother, away from the walls of his Vulcan house, under the comfortable heat of the Vulcan sun, held a special spot in Spock’s memories.

 

The Golden Gate Bridge had its usual share of tourists; the actual heavy traffic went unseen, passing through the extensive network of underground tunnels. But to Spock the bridge looked empty without a certain Cadet’s presence.

 

After the trip to the Mendocino Coast, and the mind meld, Spock had become aware of the unthinkable - a new bond had sprung to life in his mind. It was still but nascent, and Spock was horrified at its existence. If he thought the mind-meld had been sacrilege, the presence of a bond without permission or knowledge of the other person, both puzzled him and deeply shamed him. He had immediately set upon severing the bond, but the effort started to take too much of a physical toll on him. If he was on Vulcan, a healer would have done the job. But Spock had no such luxury. He had never severed a bond before. Even the bond with T’Pring, though the weakest of any bonds he had, was still alive. It was by mutual consent, that T’Pring and he never used the bond, and it lay unused and shrivelled in a corner of his mind.

 

But this new bond with Jim, should have been easy to nullify. Vulcan-human bonds were not the same as Vulcan-Vulcan bonds. The only other such pair he knew of was his parents. Over the years, he had come to form the opinion, that his parents’ bond was weaker than any of the other bonds in the family, but their affection towards each other was extremely strong. So, he was dismayed to find that the fledgling bond, which he had unintentionally created, would not easily give up. By day five after their return, Spock was using all his mental disciplines in uprooting the connection.

 

He avoided Cadet Kirk as much as he could, because he had found spending time with the Cadet fed the bond. Secure in his knowledge that he was doing the moral thing, the correct thing, the logical course of action, Spock was yet again stumped when Dr. McCoy had summoned him. The doctor’s words had chilled Spock’s blood down to his marrow.

 

He had not thought that Jim would be able to feel the bond, much less be actually affected by Spock’s actions to break it. In a Vulcan bond-breaking ceremony, a rare occurrence in itself, there were sometimes more than one healer present, for the express purpose of supporting the pain felt by one or both of the bond-breakers.

 

When Spock realized he had been inflicting pain on Jim, his anguish had almost rendered him immobile. With his remaining willpower, he had managed to finish the conversation with Dr. McCoy and exit the lounge without letting his guards fall.

 

Spock had immediately ceased his attacks on the precious bond. This meant, he was now nursing an illegitimate bond, and Spock was in more trouble than ever. He had no clue where, why and how, he should approach Cadet Kirk with this information. How could the human even begin to understand the depth and concept of a mind meld, and a bond arising out it? On top of that, this bond was between two males. Spock knew of how a brother’s bond felt. He tried not to think of Sybok, but the memories of his thirteen year self, floated up in his consciousness.

 

Sybok was the half-brother which Spock had not known about, till that fateful day, when the Vulcan youngster had come to live with them. Spock had been dismayed to learn this Sybok, was full Vulcan, borne of a Vulcan priestess, no less. His worst fears had come true. This boy would undoubtedly claim his rightful place, as the heir to Sarek. Not only was Sybok of royal blood line, he was also brought up in Gol, and was adept in the ways of Kolinahr. Spock’s half-breed existence could not have been in more direct contrast.

 

Upon being introduced, Sybok had looked at young Spock with kindness and love, and raised his hand in the Vulcan salute. From his lips came the words, “Th’yl’a” - brother - and with that single word, he had gained Spock’s eternal loyalty. It was Sybok, who had first questioned Spock’s decision to follow Sarek’s path. It was Sybok, who had first made Spock aware of the true nature of Vulcan emotions. It was Sybok, who had explained to Spock, the rare phenomenon of the joining of two warrior minds, from the days when Vulcans still engaged in battles. Such a joining of minds between two males had been considered the purest and strongest of all kinds. Vulcan poets wrote odes to the indestructible bond of Th’yl’a - brother, friend, lover - and Spock had been mesmerized by Sybok’s words. He had not thought he would ever find another brother, another friend like Sybok, but in Jim he had found both. And now, Spock was forced to consider, the third definition - lover.

 

His bond with Sybok, felt different than his new bond with Jim. He _desired_ Jim. He couldn’t deny it. He couldn’t stop himself from touching Jim. Yesterday evening was proof enough. He wished to hold Jim’s hand forever. And yet, Jim did not know anything - the human had never consented to the bond or the mind-meld or even the idea of such relationship. Jim had spoken of dating and exploring. Spock felt like his head would explode.

 

He touched the spot on the bench, where Jim had sat last evening. It was still damp from the rain. Spock didn’t have to count the days - he knew it was day 1 of exams; it had been 24 hours since he had last seen his human. 20 more days to go. Spock could be patient. Vulcans were born to be patient.

 

He turned around and went back to his apartment to continue his investigation.

 

 

                                                      *************

 

 

Jim was in a strange place, surrounded by orange grass and gigantic trees. He was running for his life screaming on top of his lungs. Something was chasing him, a thunder of heavy feet hitting ground and ferocious growls behind him. He didn’t dare to look back for fear he would lose his balance. He raced through the thick foliage, jumping over fallen trees and all the while shouting. His uniform tore at several places as sharp thorns lacerated him. He didn’t care. His lungs were complaining, and his muscles started cramping. He knew he was losing the gain over whatever was chasing him.

 

He shouted harder, his voice cracking with panic and fear and desperation. Suddenly he shot out of the thick forest and came abruptly upon the edge of what was a mountain. The ground dropped away sharply several thousand meters below. Jim skidded to a stop and turned around. He had nowhere left to go. His mouth was still shouting the same word he had been repeating over and over again. In a moment of perfect clarity, one that comes seconds before death, he realized what he was saying. It was “Spock”. He was calling out the one name, the one word, which his mind churned up without thinking.

 

The creature emerged from the forest. Blood thirsty eyes, saliva dripping from its mouth, it started stalking forward towards Jim. He was trapped. He had no phaser, not even a piece of rock. Everywhere he saw was covered in thick orange grass.

 _Spock!_  

Those were his last thoughts as the behemoth creature lunged and blinding pain engulfed him.

 

Jim shot up straight in his bed, sweat drenching his back and tears staining his cheeks. Breathing hard, he tried to orient himself. Slowly, the familiar shapes of his room’s walls came into focus. He was alive, he realized. It was a dream. _He was alive, and most importantly, so was Spock._

Jim had fallen asleep while studying on his PADD. With an effort, he pulled himself out of his sprawled position. The room was dark, and so was the outside sky, from his window.

“Computer what’s the time?” he groaned with his eyes closed.

“2130”.

 

It was the seventh day of exams. He wiped the tears away from his face with a hand, and stumbled out of his bed. His hair was a dishevelled mess. Jim forced himself to start walking towards the shower.

 

A loud knock on his door jolted him. “Do I need to call security?” A familiar voice drawled.

_Bones!_

Jim hurried to his door and yanked it open.

“Jeez kid! You are a hot mess!” The ever joyful doctor commented, and pushing Jim inside, stepped in casually.

“Pretty sure, you don’t look like a beauty queen yourself, after being woken up rudely.”

“It’s not the middle of night! Civilized people are awake at this hour.” McCoy grunted.

Jim gave up. “I am going to take a shower.”

“I brought dinner. Make it quick.” Bones found a spot among the stacks of books spread all over, and made himself comfortable.

“Thanks, man!” Jim perked up and hurried to the bathroom.

 

He stood in the hot water spray and slowly woke up. By the time he was dry, and brushing his teeth, he was fully awake and his brain was flying at top speed going over all the material he had been studying. Bones had been breathing down his neck about his less than perfect lifestyle, but Jim knew this was temporary. He would revert back to healthier habits once the exams ended. Contrary to what Bones believed, he wasn’t trying to kill himself, and no, he wasn’t worried about failing. He just wanted to beat the record. He was fairly confident of his abilities to do so, based on his past academic performance, but there was one particular Cadet he was worried about. That one Cadet had skewed the entire data in the history of StarFleet. One could simply consider his performance as an outlier, since the Vulcan brain was inherently superior, but Jim couldn’t do that. He was too competitive. So, he was giving it all he had, and was studying like a maniac. As long as he gave it his 110%, he wouldn’t regret anything.

 

Thinking of Spock’s performance, he was overcome with an urge to go see him right then. He had missed Spock like crazy, like he had missed no one else ever. It had been only a week, but it felt like a whole freaking year. He missed the eyebrow raises, the quiet presence, the earnest questions about some facet of human culture, the tall lean body in a fitted uniform. He even missed the darn green soup Spock had every morning. He had made a habit of sleeping with Spock’s pen under his pillow. Just two more weeks, he promised himself, and shut off his heart.

 

With a towel wrapped around his waist, Jim stepped out and went to his dresser to find a fresh pair of PJs.

“So, how have you been? It’s not fair you know, you don’t have to sit for exams,” he pouted to Bones. He dressed himself.

“In case you have forgotten, I have gone through eight years of medical school. A shit load of exams, trust me.” Bones was removing the assortment of notes, pens, and books from the study table to make room for their dinner.

“Plus, I do have to pass the space readiness exam by next year, if I’m to join the mission to Dramia II.”

 

Jim felt like a new man - showered and dressed in fresh clothes. Towelling his head vigorously, he said, “I don’t know how am I going to survive without you.”

“I’m worried too. Who’s going to feed you, huh?” Baby blue eyes looked at Jim.

 

“Not that! You know what I mean. I’m going to miss you, you old grump.” Jim walked over to the food laid out, and enthusiastically started loading heaps of it on his plate.

“Mmmm. This is good, Bones! Never would have guessed you knew how to cook.” He impaled a piece of green beans with his fork.

 

“Hazards of being married.” McCoy replied, but his face softened at the sight of Jim hungrily scarfing down his home cooked meal.

Jim looked up from his plate and asked gently, “How’s that going, Bones?”

McCoy dropped his eyes and moved a piece of potato around his plate. “The divorce papers are almost finalized.”

“I am really sorry, buddy.”

“I know. Thanks.” McCoy finally picked the potato with his spoon and shoved it in his mouth.

They ate in silence for some time.

 

“Ruth has been asking about you.” McCoy was back to his gruff self.

“Has she?” Jim’s face broke into a grin.

“Uh-huh. I won’t be surprised if she beats you at the scores. That kid doesn’t know when to stop.”

Jim let out a whistle. “We will see about that.” He went for a second helping.

“How’s your Vulcan?”

“Dunno,” Jim spoke with a mouthful. “Haven’t seen him in a while. I was going to ask you actually, since you must meet at breakfast.”

“Nah! He hasn’t been coming to the cafeteria anymore. I figured, without you around, he probably doesn’t find it _logical._ ” McCoy got up and dumped his empty plate and spoon in the automatic recycler disposal chute.

“Well, if you see him, let me know, okay?” Jim tried to keep his voice nonchalant. “Thanks for the awesome food, I owe you one!” Jim cleaned up the empty containers.

“Just take care of yourself, Jim. I don’t want grey hair at 25.” McCoy patted on Jim’s shoulder affectionately and walked towards the door. “Good night, kiddo.”

“Good night, Bones” Jim leaned at the door post and waved at his friend as he left.

 

He shut the door and went back to settle in for a long night of study.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Character reference, Sybok - Movie "Star trek V : The final frontier".
> 
> 2\. If anyone is interested, here is a meta by me, on StarFleet's education system. I was trying to figure it all out for this chapter (nerd alert!).  
> "As per canon, Jim starts StarFleet at age 19 and in 5 years, he graduates with all necessary knowledge of not just advanced theoretical concepts( wormhole, warp, matter-anti matter implosion,etc.), but also advanced military tactical and warfare training. He is also adept at basic sciences and knows how to create a crude bomb out of basic elements. Can quote literature like a boss.
> 
> Similarly, Bones is not just a doctor, but a surgeon, psychologist, exobiologist plus a researcher - he pioneers several advancements in medicine. Though exact date is not known in canon, he graduates sometime around 2252/2253- the same time Jim starts StarFleet. Around same time, he leads(not just participates) the massive innoculation program on Dramia II. McCoy is 24-25 years age.
> 
> Judging by their accomplishments and ages, I have concluded :
> 
> 1\. The american system of college/undergrad/grad OR pre med, med, residency, fellowship does not apply. This system is not global even in current times, so certainly can not be the system followed by an unified earth in future.
> 
> 2\. Every new generation is smarter and faster. The kids today learn what people in previous generations learnt, much earlier in lives. By the time in TOS world, humankind has progressed enough, where the equivalent of 4 yr college is finished by age 16-18. Jim already knows a lot before he joins StarFleet. 
> 
> 3\. At StarFleet all of them are grad level. Similarly, McCoy has finished in 8 yrs what would take 11-12 years by current American system.
> 
> 4\. Finally, StarFleet is ivy league level. You need sponsorship to even get in. These men are all brightest of the brightest, so it’s fair to assume that many of them have been on accelerated tracks in their school."


	26. Data

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If possible, please try not to read this chapter on a smartphone/small screen. It messes up some formatting :)

_Spock!_

Spock’s head jerked up the sound of Jim’s voice.

He turned around in his chair, scanning his empty apartment and whispered incredulously, “Jim?”

 

There was no one there. He already knew this fact, yet he was certain that he had just heard Jim’s voice. Reluctantly, he turned his focus inwards towards the warm glowing corner in his mind. Spock listened for anything further but he felt nothing else.

 

Once he had accepted that the bond was there to stay, he had decided to explain the truth to Jim. After the exams were over, that is. Depending on Jim’s reaction, and Spock was expecting the worst, he would know what to do next. For now, he just let the bond be. He did refrain from engaging the link actively in any fashion. Doing so would be a severe violation of Jim’s privacy.

 

The very existence of the bond however, did mean that Jim was alive. To Spock’s relief, the bond now served as a constant monitoring tool. His anxiety had decreased to manageable level, once he realized this. But, hearing Jim this clearly through the bond was completely unexpected. _Was Jim dreaming?_ Spock did not know how exactly this bond worked. Data on accidental human-Vulcan bonds was nonexistent.

 

Spock retreated from the space around the golden spot inside his head, and clamped down on the tide of emotions - reassurance, care, longing, worry - which rose inside him. His heart rate had become slightly elevated. His instinctual reaction to Jim calling over the bond, consciously or unconsciously, was to answer. A Vulcan’s mind was biologically wired to respond. With some effort, Spock stopped himself, and directed his concentration back to the computer screen.

 

Since late afternoon, he was following a new thread of investigation. The source of neuroparalyzer found by Dr. McCoy in Jim’s body was still a mystery. The good news was the medical lab had recently updated their report; at last the compound had a name.

 

It was called Nerophrene and was not native to Earth. Nor to Vulcan.

 

Now that he had a name for the compound, he had run a simple search but that had yielded no result. So, Spock was writing an algorithm, which would comb through the vast records of the Federation, looking for that keyword. There had to be a trace, no matter how well hidden, in the computer records somewhere.

 

He finished writing the code and the estimated run time showed that the exhaustive search algorithm would take two hours to complete. Spock launched the program and went to change from his robe into non-Vulcan clothing.

 

He had spent the last two days grading the subjects he taught. He had to fight the impulse to grade Astrophysics first, though it was the last exam which was administered. Instead, he graded the other subjects first and chastised himself for his blatant display of emotionalism.

 

Astrophysics – the class he taught where Jim was a student - he finished grading it this morning. The student who scored the highest - by a huge margin - was the very same, whose face appeared behind his eyelids whenever he closed them. Spock had to triple check to make sure he was not letting personal bias color his assessment. In the end, he was satisfied with the impartiality of his grading. The inescapable truth was that James T. Kirk was an exceptionally gifted young man. A sensation of warmth had spread throughout him, when he realized this. That was how Spock learned what the emotion ‘pride’ meant.

 

Spock tucked his shirt inside his jeans, while gazing at the black faux leather jacket hanging in his closet. His eyes travelled down to the shelf inside his closet, where in a small elegant box, lay a metal key. His fingers touched the key - illogical he knew, but it was the closest to touching Jim. He stepped back and the closet door slid shut. He left his apartment to go on his nightly walk.

 

It was day seventeen of exams. Walking with hands clasped behind him, head bowed, he wondered idly what Jim must be doing. He did not know Jim’s number and neither had he ever offered his own. There was no rational reason to do so. He had Dr. McCoy’s number and there had been a clear reason in exchanging that information.

 

He was aware of how the humans engaged in trivial communication in their spare time - with no purpose except to simply communicate. There had come a time in earth’s history when the explosion of this phenomenon had started affecting humankind’s productivity. Along with the other reforms, this was one of the hurdles, which mankind had successfully navigated.

 

Similar to how the current practice of walking was the principal method of transport on the campus, the value of face-to-face interaction had been one of those concepts which was firmly re-established during the reform. Peak physical and mental health was considered a fundamental way of life by current earthmen and women.

 

Spock was beginning to see the logic of keeping in touch with one’s companions when unable to meet in person. In a theoretical world, if he had possessed Jim’s number, he probably could have devised some reason to message Jim. But there was no reason for Spock to ask Jim’s number. Their joint work was complete and Jim was no longer his student either. Spock sighed internally.

 

Jim had once asked him, if he missed his home, parents or his planet. Spock had replied that missing anything was a human emotion and hence Spock did not experience it. Like so many things in his life, this too had changed. He acknowledged to himself that truth - _yes, he missed Jim_. Probably much more acutely than any human missed another given how deep Vulcan emotions ran. He was surprised to find that the emotion produced physical symptoms as well. He distinctly felt what could only be termed as heartache. Spock was still Vulcan enough to recognize this as _fascinating!_

 

He could once again enjoy the beauty of the sunset over the bay. Now that the bond thrummed constantly in his mind, he was always aware that, whatever else was going on with Jim, he was not in mortal danger.

 

He returned to his apartment precisely after two hours. It was 2215.

 

Spock did not even change his clothing because on his screen, he saw that the algorithm had spat out a single result. He went over to his desk and stared at the computer screen for several moments. _Was it possible?_

 

**Name of drug                                   Date of transaction                                 Initiated by**

**\------------                                  ------------------                            -------------**

**Nerophrene                                      2252.8 (August 22)                               James T. Kirk.**

**Serial #:SC937-0176CEC**

 

The evidence was clear. There was no ambiguity. _Jim himself had been responsible?_ Spock’s anxiety came back in full force _. Had the PTSD or depression got to Jim? Had he been suicidal?_

The mere thoughts sent a sharp pain through him. He stood staring silently at the terminal. His mind was in a complete turmoil.

Spock’s human and Vulcan sides erupted into a battle. Logic dictated that, when one eliminated the impossible, what remained however improbable, must be the truth. Emotion refused to consider that Jim had thought of taking his own life.

 

His confusion was a most uncharacteristic reaction. Spock had always been sure of himself for remaining calm, no matter what the circumstances.

 

Eventually, his thoughts settled down enough and he calmed down. He remembered there was one way to find out. Dr. McCoy would know. So, he took out his communicator and typed out a message to the doctor.

“Doctor, Spock here. Have you met Cadet Kirk lately?”

 

After a few seconds, the reply flashed.

 

“I am a doctor, not a pigeon! First he asks about you, then you about him. I didn’t sign up to carry messages. Why can’t you ask each other directly? Yeah, I just left his room fifteen minutes ago.”

 

Spock’s eyebrows shot up. _Jim had asked about him?_ _And why was Dr. McCoy inside Jim_ _’_ _s personal quarters?_ A somewhat familiar emotion he recognized as jealousy raised its head. He would never admit that to the doctor, of course. He would also never admit that the barbed reply from the doctor oddly soothed Spock. It brought back some semblance of normalcy to the moment.

 

“I find no resemblance to the member of the bird family Columbidae. However, if you were eager for my opinion, you have an uncanny resemblance to the terran mammal, Otter.”

 

There was a few seconds of silence, during which Spock’s lips bent slightly, imagining the good doctor’s reaction.

 

“You pointy eared, green blooded, alien!!!”

 

“That is an accurate description. Thank you. I would like to point out though, the use of three exclamation marks is unnecessary. One is entirely sufficient.”

 

“So help me Lord!”

 

Spock didn’t attempt to wipe away the tiny smirk off his face. In fact, the doctor’s reaction cleared up his mind entirely of earlier confusion.

 

“Unfortunately, it is I, who require your help. I need your advice, doctor.”

“Never thought I would live long enough to hear that!”

Spock ignored the comment.

 

“Are you aware of any suicidal ideation in Cadet Kirk in last few months?”

Spock waited for a reply but none came. After several moments, he typed, “Doctor?”

 

“What in the blazes are you talking about?”

 

Spock sighed. Dr. McCoy was incapable of answering in a straight forward manner. Spock typed in his explanation of what he had found.

 

“That’s impossible! Jim wouldn’t do that.”

“Can you rule out the possibility completely?”

“Well,no, not completely. But I’ll be damned if this was true.”

 

“Data do not lie, doctor.”

“No, but men entering that data, in your precious machine can!”

“What are you suggesting?”

“Who approved of the request?” the doctor asked.

 

Spock’s smirk got replaced by a frown. The doctor was right. Why had not he thought of it himself?

 

“Don’t tell me that brain of yours forgot this little detail? It’s a class H drug, one can’t just bring it in on a Cadet’s request. Who approved it?” The doctor had latched on like a Piranha to the one mistake Spock had ever made.

 

“I do not know.”

“Look it up!”

Spock was already doing that. The public log entry was curiously marked with a code signifying it was highly classified information. Spock couldn’t get past it.

“The system will not let me access.”

 

“Really? And here I thought you knew everything about computers.”

 

Spock was tempted to do a very human gesture - roll his eyes.

“I do.”

“Well, get to it then, Mr. Vulcan!”

“Doctor, please, I request that you do not share this information with anyone yet - for Cadet Kirk’s safety.”

“Understood, Spock.”

 

Spock closed his comm. and sat down on the chair.

 

He had finally reached the point in his investigation, which he had feared. Further probing would now require him to rely solely on his superior knowledge of computer technology. His actions would be considered illegal, if he was discovered. There was no doubt in his mind. The moral course of action was to use his intellect to find the truth. In this, both his human and Vulcan sides agreed. The truth was the scientist’s ultimate goal as well.

 

So, Spock worked for the next forty five minutes, breaking through several levels of encryption and security protocols. Finally, the screen resolved into a white background and black letters spelled out what Spock was looking for.

 

**Name of drug            Date of transaction            Initiated by                       Approved by**  
  
---  
  
**\----------             ------------------        -----------------         ------------------**  
  
**Nerophrene              2252.8 (August 22)           James T. Kirk                        Connor Burke**  
  
**(Cadet)                                (Vice Admiral)**  
  
**Serial #:SC937-0176CEC      Serial #:SC247-117SWA**  
  
 

  
  

Spock read the name in the last column. Immediately, he was reminded of another piece of information he had read a week back. He pulled up Cadet Finnegan’s file and found the line he was looking for.

**Mother: Sarah B. Finnegan (formerly Sarah Burke).**

If his suspicion was correct, it was a simple matter of searching the publicly available database. His fingers flew as he ran a query on the marriage and annulment section and this time, he was satisfied, when the computer confirmed his hunch.

 

 

**Year of annulment: 2242.**

**Defendants: Sarah Burke and Connor Burke.**

**Reason: Irreconcilable Differences.**

**Filed by: Sarah Burke.**

So, Cadet Finnegan was the biological son of Vice Admiral Burke. And the Admiral had approved of the drug which nearly killed Jim. Spock still didn’t know why and how Jim had requested this drug. But he felt like he was closer to the truth, than he had been in months. All this had been buried under so many layers of security, that Spock doubted anyone else with lesser computer skills, could have discovered it.

 

Spock rose and finally went to change his clothing. A cup of warm tea was in order.

 

 

 


	27. Last exam

 

 Spock had spent the entire night pouring over Burke's background, foregoing even his morning exercise.

 

 By the time rest of the Academy was awake, he had a new problem on his hands.

 

He learned that Burke had dedicated his entire adult life to StarFleet. Several of the innovations in current spaceship weaponry had been spear-headed by him. He had been recognized seven times for his successful missions.

 

At the same time, Spock noted some peculiarities in his file. There had been charges of assault brought against him on three separate occasions, all later dropped, in his 25 year career. Out of the three people, who had initiated those accusations, two resigned from StarFleet soon after. Spock recognized the odds of that being coincidental, as an exponentially high number. The third name was listed as still active in the service and it was this name that had caught his attention.

It was a Cadet Robbins. _Number One._

Spock finished his breakfast. He rinsed the empty bowl - breakfast was always a simple affair - and wiped his hands dry. Then, he took a deep breath and typed into his communicator. It was 0730 hours. Spock considered that an acceptable hour.

 

"Good morning Number One. Spock here. I am in need of your advice."

A full minute passed and then the reply arrived.

"Morning Spock. I was about to get back to you about the report."

"My query is personal in nature. I request a meeting, at your earliest convenience."

 

Another minute passed.

"I am free right now, but won't get to fleet HQ for another two hours. If you don't mind discussing your issue at my quarters, you are welcome to come over."

"I do not mind. I will meet you in five minutes."

"Sounds good."

 Spock looked up her apartment number on the officer's directory on computer. Since he lived in the officers' quarters’ section, it was a one minute walk to her building.

His own apartment was in the last building of the cluster. It was meant for junior ranked officers, but Pike had managed to get Spock in, even though he was a Cadet. He didn't have many neighbors; the building was the least occupied. Most junior officers didn't stay long on campus; it served more as temporary accommodations, in between missions.

 

Spock made his way through the shrub lined paths and pressed his palm at the scanner located on the entrance to Number One's quarters. Her apartment was at the very top, on the tenth floor, overlooking the bay. She was waiting for him at her apartment door, dressed in a simple red sweater and jeans.

 

He noticed the subtle touches she had made to the space, to personalize it while she was Earth-bound. Mostly though, it dominated by clean and efficient spaces.

She offered tea.

"No, thank you."

 She extracted two toasts from the synthesizer and a bowl of fruit. With a cup of steaming tea in one hand, and her breakfast in another, she led Spock through her apartment to the other end.

 

"I must admit I am intrigued, Spock. What's on your mind?" They were seated at her open balcony, the breeze from the bay bringing in the smell of the sea.  Her sapphire blue eyes regarded him with curiosity, while she blew on her tea.

 

Spock clasped his fingers together on his lap and arranged his thoughts. He knew he was skirting dangerous territory.

 

"I have recently come across some disturbing information. My goal was to investigate the attack on Cadet Ivanov earlier this year, and then the later attack on Cadet Kirk. In my efforts to do so, I have uncovered evidence, which suggests a high ranking officer in the establishment is involved."

 

"I see." Number One was immediately on alert, her posture tensed. "Are we speaking off the record here, Spock?"

"That is my wish." He was impressed by her quick assessment of the situation.

 

"Okay, tell me more about what have you found." She started eating her breakfast but her eyes remained fixed on Spock, reading his body language intently.

 

Spock walked her through his analysis in a chronological order. He had deliberately not brought any written material, relying only upon his spoken words to convey his findings.  "It was this officer’s file that revealed your name, and hence, I have decided to seek your counsel." Spock finished his monologue.

 

Number One looked away from him for the first time. She spoke quietly, "If you are talking about the man, I believe you are, then this information, couldn't have been easily available."

 

Spock bent his head down. Admitting his unauthorized actions openly, was a risk he had to take.

"Affirmative. Much of this is classified."

 

Number One looked at him. She was searching for something on his face. "You must be aware of the consequences, then?"

"I am."

She became visibly agitated at his admission. Rising from her chair, she started pacing back and forth, before him.

"I don't understand,Spock. You are a valuable asset to the Academy. Why are you putting your entire career and reputation in jeopardy? For whose benefit?"

 

Spock had not expected this question. He had simply believed that she would help him. In his dealings with her so far, Spock had formed the opinion, that she was the kind of human, who valued truth and justice above all. He was even prepared for her to refuse to answer his questions, or to deny the accusations he was making. But, what he had not anticipated was being asked "Why". The realization dawned upon him, that his duty towards Jim was obvious only to himself, not to anyone else. For others, questioning his motivations was logical.

 

"I am invested in Cadet Kirk's well-being." He explained.

 

"Must be some friendship!" She commented.

Spock hesitated. But, if he was to solicit her help, he had to earn and keep her trust. Withholding any truths would be counter-productive.

"He is unaware of my actions." Spock was in a really vulnerable position now.

 

"Oh!" Number One stopped pacing and surprise registered on her face. She watched him for several moments. Finally, she went back to her chair and sat down.

 

 

"Okay, I will help you. What do you want to know?"

"Are you aware of whom I am talking about?" Spock asked, making sure, they were both on the same page, before he went any further.

"Yes. Connor Burke." There was an edge in her voice,

 

"Then, I wish to know, why did you file an assault charge against him?"

 

Number One rubbed her forehead with her right hand. She exhaled slowly. "What I am about to say, I haven't told anyone else, except Pike. But I trust you. And if there is ever to be justice, you are probably my best bet."

 

She picked up her tea cup, and sipped once. "I was a Cadet then. He was an instructor. A very popular one. He was a handsome man, and knew it. I simply saw him as my instructor. All I was interested in was, learning. My girlfriends were all infatuated with him. I was not." She was looking at the distant horizon, her face thoughtful. The overcast grey skies and the grey water blurred, it was difficult to see where the water ended and the sky started.

 

"That was my first mistake, and I paid for it." Her voice trembled slightly but her face betrayed nothing.

She continued, "I was naive, confident and fearless. One day after class, he asked me to remain back. When the room was empty, he tried to kiss me. He is a powerfully built man and would have succeeded but I am a martial arts expert. I fought back, and nearly broke his jaw in the process. He didn't dare again but he failed me in the subject he taught us. I was furious. I was a brilliant student."

 

Her eyes dropped down to the cup in her hands. "So, I filed a complaint against him. That was my second mistake. In the hearing, I was unable to prove anything. I had not expected that he would tamper with my examination, and I found myself unprepared. It was my word against his. I had wrongly believed that simply telling the truth was enough. I wish life was that simple." She smiled ruefully, and her eyes shone with unshed tears.

 

Spock looked away, unable to hide his reaction to the pain flickering on her features. He respected and cared about her deeply. She had shown remarkable kindness and competency. When he turned his gaze back, she was looking at him with an odd expression. "You do feel, don't you? In fact, you feel more than us. I suspected as much, but never realized it till today."

 

Spock did not say anything. Being an instructor himself, he couldn't fathom the kind of character it required to abuse a student.

 

She reached out and placed her right palm over his clasped hands. "Thank you for feeling my pain." And then she lifted her hand away. She resumed sipping her tea, with a tiny sad smile formed on her lips. 

 

Spock asked, slowly, "Am I correct in assuming that he never bothered you again?"

 

"Oh no. I had not just hurt his jaw, you see, but his ego too. So, he made it his mission to make my life hell the entire five years, while I was a student. Once I graduated, he followed my career from afar. He was climbing the ranks fast. By the time I earned my senior stripes, he was a Vice admiral. The first thing he did, was to make sure, I will never get my own ship. So, I have been a Lieutenant Commander for many years, and will be until I retire. Fighting the bureaucracy and politics to challenge him, was going to be long process. Instead, as I often tell Captain Pike, I am happier to be among the stars, as a First Officer on his ship, than to be wasting my life trying to earn my right to Captaincy."

 

Spock bent his fingers into a steeple. "I was under the impression, that StarFleet was a fairly transparent organization, run by moral men and women."

 

"It is. 99% of it is. There is that 1%, Mr. Spock, which we humans can't seem to get rid of." She seemed relaxed now. The pain had gone from her eyes.

 

"In which case, he must be brought to trial again. Retaliation seems to be his method of attack. This must not be permitted." Spock replied.

 

"Spock, listen to me. He is a powerful man. One doesn't become Vice Admiral without amassing a loyal base on the way up. If there is anyone, who I would support in fighting him, it would be you. But, you can't make the same mistake I did. For us to be able to bring him down, we need solid, irrefutable evidence. Else, you or worst, your friend, will simply be earning his wrath. And I won't let brilliant men like you, be sacrificed again." Her eyes were hard and the determination in her voice made it clear, that there would be no arguments on this.

 

Spock nodded. She was correct in her analysis.

"I agree. We need evidence."

 

“Can I fill Pike in? It will still be off the record. I am sure he will want to be kept abreast.” She asked.

“That is agreeable.” Spock trusted Pike without a doubt.

 

"Don't you think Cadet Kirk has a right to this information?" Number One asked him pointedly.

 

Spock looked worried.

"Perhaps, he does. However, given everything you have just shared, and the fact that the other two of the Admiral’s accusers, both are no longer in StarFleet, I am reluctant to put Cadet Kirk in harm's way. At least, until I have gathered enough data to prove beyond a reasonable doubt, the Admiral's true nature."

 

"What about you, Spock? If you are caught, you will be court-martialed." She challenged him.

"I am aware of that fact, but I _must_ do this. I simply must. I have no choice." Spock replied almost passionately.

 

Number One cocked her head to one side and studied him for a long time. Finally, she let out a breath. "I see. Be very careful then. I have every reason to believe, that Burke will not hesitate to employ drastic measures, even life threatening." She leaned towards him, speaking in an urgent tone, willing him to see the danger.

"I have a final piece of advice, Spock.  Your status as the son of the Vulcan Ambassador is a unique advantage. It may grant you some immunity, but may not be enough. However, it is something. Do you have a plan in mind?"

 

Spock thought about everything she has revealed, and what he had uncovered.

"I will continue looking for clues in the archives. Meanwhile, I believe the best course of action would be to keep track of him and his son, and wait for the right opportunity to present itself."

 

 

 

 

# * * *

 

 

Jim stuffed a sandwich into his mouth, his brows knitted in concentration. His eyes were on the open book on the study table going over the highlighted parts.

 

Then, while hopping on one foot, then the other, he pulled up his uniform trousers, without taking his eyes off the book. Fumbling with the buttons on his tunic in his haste, he made a face when his wrist watch beeped. It was 1445 hours - time to go for the last exam. Jim stole a look in the mirror and ran a hand through his hair, trying to bring some order. His hair immediately bounced back and stood erect like soldiers.

 

He gave up and started looking for his socks, when a loud knock sounded on his door. His friends were here. He found one sock, and then shouted, "Coming!"

Desperately, he looked for the other one. It was the last day of exams. He would be a free man in three hours, and there was just one thing on his mind, that he wanted to do with that freedom.

 

God, he had missed him! Jim couldn't wait to see him.

 

"C'mon, Kirk!” It was Nathan, his friend from their study and sparring group.

Jim opened the door in his bare feet. Valas was standing behind Nathan; both of them were scowling at him.

 

"I can't find my Spock - sock! I mean SOCK! I can't find my damn sock!" Jim spluttered.

Valas was already pushing in through the door and started looking under the bed. Nathan rolled his eyes and muttered, "you and your socks" , but he too went down on his fours and started hunting for that elusive item.

 

"Eureka!" Valas triumphantly held up the black sock, which had starships printed on it, in her raised hand.

 

Jim grinned and in record setting speed, put on his socks, then slid on the black boots. They all ran out of his room, down the long corridor, to where a few other cadets were frantically leaving their rooms as well.

 

Valas talked energetically about the party the next evening. It was not just to celebrate the end of the quarter, but also, it was her birthday. Her first time celebrating on Earth. She had convinced Jim, and the rest of their group, to go downtown at a particularly well known spot. The entire first year would probably descend there, but, Valas was so excited that Jim didn't have the heart to refuse. Besides, he had already let Bones know about his plans.

 

His friends had all been interviewed when he had been poisoned before and were already aware. So no one raised an eyebrow when, Bones ordered Jim to carry his own water and snacks, to the party.

His doctor friend had also quipped, "Don't talk to strangers."

 

Jim felt really stupid but he was not taking any chances.

 

He and his friends reached the exam hall just in time, and with whispered, ‘good luck’s’ to each other, sat down to tackle the last exam.

 

The testing period lasted three hours and at 1800 hours, every first year student, in every building around the entire campus, breathed a sigh of relief. Some cried, some laughed, and some collapsed into their seats. Others made plans to party all night, and still others, like Jim simply disappeared.

 

Jim started walking - all he could think was Spock. And sleep. But the former took precedence. He didn't know where to find Spock. In all these months, they had never managed to ask each other's contact number - everything with Spock was infinitely more complicated and that much more thrilling. He could just show up at Spock's room but then he realized he didn't even know where Spock lived!

Spock had never missed a day - never fallen sick or run late. Jim had taken for granted the fact that his Vulcan would just magically appear every morning at their hill. Now, he couldn't wait till morning.

 

Post-exam relief and exhaustion started to creep in and his brain began to shut down. Kirk was on autopilot. So, he did a double take, when he realized where his feet had brought him - Spock's rose garden. There was no one in there. He idly wondered if any other student even knew of its existence.

 

Jim stumbled onto the bench and sunk down on it. He closed his eyes briefly and inhaled the smell of the roses. They reminded him of the inn at Mendocino - it too had rose shrubs all around. Then, the way Spock had held the rose on the train - Jim needed to find out more about this mystery of Spock and roses. In fact, he knew nothing about Spock's childhood or his family or his planet.

 

For all the time, they had managed to spend together most of it had been spent in activities related to StarFleet. Breakfast, really, was the only time, Jim wasn't in an educational setting with Spock. Their morning runs, which he had missed for many weeks now, also never presented an opportunity to talk.

 

Tomorrow morning though, Bones had cleared him to resume running. He lay down and spread himself on the bench, hands tucked under his head, and looked up at the sky. 

 

Jim was looking forward to spending more time with Spock. The first quarter had been brutal with so much study load. This next quarter though was going to be fun. It was all hands-on space stuff, starting next week. At StarFleet, each year was split in four quarters or in other words, two semesters. The first was always the theory part, and the next quarter was the application of those theories learned. 

 

Spock would have more availability as well, since teaching theoretical courses required much more preparation on the part of the instructor. So, they both should be able to spend some time together, Jim mused. Then, in December, the first semester would end, and a month long break before the second semester would start next year. That was when Jim planned to take Spock to Idaho - though he was honestly unsure, if Spock thought of things the way Jim did. Sometimes, he felt like, he was going too fast. It was just the way he was - he did everything with passionate energy, or he didn't do it at all. But, it was probably different for Spock.

 

Jim waited for a miracle to happen, somehow Spock to appear, knowing Jim was waiting for him. When he tilted his head towards the bay, he realized he could see the Golden Gate Bridge from where he was on the bench. His brain was trying to find some significance in this fact, but it was proving to be too much to think. Tomorrow, he promised himself, he would visit his dear bridge.

 

With a start he sat up, when he realized he was falling asleep. He had been surviving on minimal sleep for almost a month now. Anyone else could blissfully fall asleep under the stars, feeling safe inside the campus grounds, but not Jim of course. It also chilly at this time of the year. He shook off the sleep and stood up.

 

Keeping his senses alert, he walked back to his room. Once inside, he crashed on to his bed with his shoes still on.  

 


	28. Attraction

"You are staring again." Her best friend, Aretta, whispered in Ruth's ear.

_I am so screwed!_ Ruth groaned internally. Aretta was right. Try as she might, Ruth was having a hard time keeping her eyes from straying.

 

"But I will cut you some slack, he is looking particularly delish tonight." Aretta spoke in a teasing tone.

"Aretta!" Ruth warned.

Long sparkling ear-rings, dangling almost to her shoulders, jingled as Aretta flashed a set of perfect white teeth and giggled uncontrollably.

"You are so easy, girl. I can't help it. I have waited 20 years for this day, ya know?"

 

Ruth just shook her head, and redirected her attention to the drink she had been nursing for an hour now. The party in downtown, where Aretta had dragged her to, was in full swing.

 

"Why doesn't his friend ever attend a party, though? Would it just kill him to show up, once?" Aretta pouted, twirling one long dark hair strand between her fingers.

"Mr. Spock has better things to do, than gyrate to loud music and spend an evening consuming disturbing amount of intoxicants." Ruth replied.

"Oh man, why did you have to plant that image in my head now? Gyrate...That long, lithe, body,...oh Lord! “Aretta fanned herself with a hand, and looked dreamily at Ruth.

"You are incorrigible!" Ruth rebuked her friend.

"And you madam, are a hopeless case."

 

Ruth bent her head down. She had no argument to offer. For the millionth time, she questioned her behavior. _Seriously, what was she doing?_ It had started as a harmless crush at first, though Aretta had reminder her, that Ruth didn't do crushes like normal girls. Her crushes lasted entire decades, and were always one-sided. Again, Aretta was right.

 

James T. Kirk was only the third crush in Ruth's twenty years of life so far. The man was hard to miss, to be honest. Every girl on campus had heard of him. Ruth had acknowledged her own attraction towards the hazel eyed, tall cadet. And she had been fine with that - that is, letting her body act on its natural impulses, as long as it let her brain do, what she was here to do, at StarFleet.

 

Wanderlust and StarFleet ran in her blood. Ruth's mother had been a nurse in the fleet. That's how she had first met Aretta. Both the girls had bonded, when at age five, they had stood together at the funeral ceremony, for the crew of the space exploration ship which had exploded mid-mission. Ruth's mother and Aretta's mother, both nurses, had been aboard the ill-fated ship. Since then, they had been inseparable, in spite of the fact, that they were polar opposite in personalities. Ruth was blond, light-eyed, petite and classically beautiful. Aretta was swarthy, dark haired, the tallest girl cadet and an exotic beauty. Ruth had followed her mother's footsteps and become a nurse, and then double majored in space neuropsychology and research. Aretta had gone on to study engineering and specialized in warp core. Her infatuation with Mr. Spock, though she pretended to it to be superficial, was actually driven by the Vulcan's brilliance in that field of study. Aretta called him her, "Warp Prince".

 

Ruth had been handling her own problem just fine, till Dr. McCoy had one day invited Kirk to their lab. Meeting him up close and subjected to his blinding charm, Ruth had fallen from a manageable level of puppy love to the deep dark hole of obsessive crush. Dr. McCoy didn't stop it with that one visit. Kirk's visits became a semi-regular thing, and Ruth would be dragged along to the lunches by Dr. McCoy, who she suspected, was laboring under some false belief. To her dismay, Cadet Kirk turned out to be a thoughtful and intelligent man, who could speak on a wide variety of subjects with an ease, which betrayed his genius. Unlike her past crushes, Ruth actually came to know this one, and the more she learned about him, the worst her one-sided attraction became.

 

Then, that fateful day arrived, when he was poisoned and Ruth's world fell apart. Standing over the lifeless form of the man she adored, as she tried to follow Dr. McCoy's instructions to save his life, Ruth realized the extent of her troubles. Those hours were the most grueling she had experienced, since she lost her mother. Along with the understanding that this was not a simple infatuation, came the crushing realization, as she watched Mr. Spock sit hours after hours next to James Kirk's bed, that she would never have a chance. She had watched when Kirk had finally regained consciousness, the way he looked at his friend, and Ruth knew hers was a lost cause. The final nail in her coffin was, when instead of feeling jealousy or bitterness towards Mr. Spock, she instead felt gratitude and warmth towards the stoic, quiet Vulcan. All she could think of was Jim's happiness. _Be happy, Jim._ And there was no one else Ruth could think of, who was a gentler and purer soul than Mr. Spock.

 

"Get up! We are dancing! I am not letting you sit here moping after him!" Aretta's voice broke Ruth's reverie.

_Was she moping? Again?_ Ruth felt irritation at her herself. The last thing she wanted was to behave like some love-sick teenage girl. She had promised herself, that she would not let her life revolve around this doomed romance.

 

Ruth was an intensely private person, and at first even Aretta didn't suspect anything. But then, when Ruth became obsessed with the neurotoxin which had almost killed Kirk, her best friend started to get worried. Aretta, who was also her roommate, had to drag Ruth back to their room every night, so preoccupied had she become trying to find the compound's origin. After weeks of single-minded determination, Ruth had finally discovered it to be an obscure drug called Nerophrene. But, apart from updating the medical records of the case, she was helpless to do anything further. So, it was a welcome diversion when the exams had started and Ruth could forget about her heartache and worry for a while.

 

Ruth put down her untouched drink, took Aretta's hand and forced herself to smile. Aretta pulled Ruth through the throngs of bodies, the women dressed in glittering dresses, the men mostly in dark shirts and jeans, to the center of the mob. She was grateful for what Aretta was trying to do. She had been approached by at least ten men since she had arrived at the party. She had kindly turned them all down.

 

The two girlfriends swayed to the music and the pulsating multi-colored light which bathed the entire place in swatches of deep purple and red. She surveyed the crowd around her. Almost everyone from first year was there, and several of senior students as well.

 

Her eyes went to the figure, who was sitting at the bar. In the past hour, James Kirk had also been approached by many girls, but he too had refused every one of them. She noticed he didn't order any drink, instead, he had poured himself what looked like water, and like Ruth, had been sitting with that glass, pretending to drink! Something in his demeanor bothered Ruth. It was rare to see him so pensive. She took her eyes off before Aretta could catch her and tried to put her mind on the blaring tune.  

 

 

                                                                                                                           *****

 

Sean stood admiring himself in front of the mirror. His blue eyes, platinum blonde hair, tall and muscular frame turned every one's head he knew. He flexed his biceps and watched the muscles ripple under his skin, in the reflection. He was dressed in a light blue short-sleeve shirt, which made his eye-color pop out, and tight black jeans which made his long legs hard to miss. He mussed his hair once more, until it fell across his forehead in just the right way. Satisfied, he blew a kiss to his image and smiled seductively.

 

"You got pretty eyes, boy," he recalled his dad telling him once, when he was ten years old. "Did you know pythons use their eyes to hypnotize their prey?" His dad had winked at him.

 

Sean had wanted to correct his dad that it was an old myth, but he had beamed with pride at his dad's words and kept quiet. His world revolved around his father. Everything he could do to please his dad, he did it. Anything he could do to get his attention, Sean would never hesitate. His dad wasn't easily available. He was gone for months sometimes, and the other times, when he was stationed on Earth, he would work long days and sometimes even nights. But, moments like the one, where he complimented on Sean's eyes, his Dad would suddenly notice his existence and make Sean feel alive. 

 

When Sean was four years old, he had found a dirty little puppy, on his way back from school. Sean loved animals. They never questioned him or laughed at him. He had picked up the puppy with great care and had carried it home in his arms. His mom was mortified but he brushed her aside. With her help, they had made a makeshift bed in a shoe box for his little friend, and Sean had sat all evening next to the brown lump of fur, trying to feed it.

 

When his Dad came home that night, dressed in his StarFleet uniform, which Sean admired so much, he ran to him, and proudly said, "Dad! Look what I found. Look here, Dad, it was not moving, but I am gonna take care of it."

 

The tall, powerfully built, StarFleet Captain had towered over the shoebox by the fireside, and his face had turned red.

"Why is this mongrel in my house?! I want it thrown out this very minute, OUT!"

Sean had been thunderstruck. "Dad...?" he had started in a timid way.

 

His father had looked at Sean with cold blue eyes, and brought his face down close to him. In a voice which made Sean shiver, his dad had warned, "I am not raising a sissy. You want to be a weakling like that - be my guest." And then he had grabbed Sean by the collar of his shirt with one hand, and the shoebox in another, and dragged them through the house. His dad had flung open the front door, thrown the box out with the puppy in it, into the cold freezing night, and kicked Finnegan out after it.

 

He had heard his mom shriek in terror from inside the house, but his Dad had silenced her with one blow to her face.

 

Sean remembered sitting on the frozen ground, shivering violently in his thin pajamas, his little heart hammering in his chest. All he had ever wanted was to please his dad. He had dared not move till he was sure his dad and mom were back inside, the door closed. When he had gone over to find his puppy, the tiny animal's body lay cold, broken and limp. Four year old Sean had sobbed bitterly in the quiet night, trying his best to muffle his cries with a fist to his lips - because he knew dad would never approve of crying. He had cradled the dead puppy in his arms and rocked back and forth, repeating over and over again, "You can sleep now, puppy. Sleep forever."

 

After a time, when he could no longer feel his toes and his face felt numb from the cold, the front door had quietly opened. In the sliver of light coming from inside the house, he had seen his mom come rushing, to scoop him in her arms. Her eyes were red and puffed and she walked with an awkward limp, but she had carried him inside.

 

"He is done for the night," she had whispered. Sean knew what that meant. He saw his dad sprawled on the armchair in the living room; a bottle by his side, an empty glass lying at his foot. Every night his dad would drink the 'grown up juice' and then fall asleep. His mother had carried Sean to his bedroom and had slept with him in his bed that night, holding Sean close to her.

 

That was the last time Sean had shown weakness.

 

Over the years, he developed a facade, which helped keep his private self, hidden from the public. He was the clown - at parties, in his class, at family gatherings. People loved laughing at his jokes. His practical jokes annoyed some, but delighted others. He was never taken seriously. It was only in the darkness of moonless nights, in deserted alleys, that the few unfortunate found, what his clown face hid.

 

Finnegan turned back from the mirror and looked at his roommate, Hachiro, who was bent over and polishing Sean's StarFleet boots. He slipped the piece of paper he was holding, into his jean's pocket and watched the fine piece of ass on his roommate. Sliding his arms into a heavy jacket, Sean licked his lips - his eyes never left the other man's behind. When he was fully dressed, Sean walked over and groped Hachiro firmly. Hachiro froze.

Sean brought his lips to the man's ears and spoke in a thick voice, “I got to go to a party now, but later tonight - you will be rewarded. Now finish polishing my boots." He squeezed once more before releasing Hachiro, and with a smile of satisfaction, Sean left his room.

 

When he was twelve years old, his mom left his dad and took Sean with her. She married another man, a guy called John Finnegan, who spoke softly and never raised his hand on his mom. His mom changed her last name and even changed Sean's last name. To keep him safe. To give him a fresh start, she had explained. But Sean didn't like his step-dad. The man was a sissy and was no match for the tough, heroic Captain of StarFleet his real dad had been.

 

So, when he had finally joined StarFleet and re-united with his Dad, who was now a vice-admiral, he was ecstatic. His dad had approved of the ruthless young man Sean had grown into. He started spending many weekend evenings in the posh apartment his dad lived in alone, on the headquarters premises, next to the Academy.

 

Over late night drinks, his dad talked of the challenges facing StarFleet - the agenda of weaker officers who wanted to turn StarFleet into a big happy family. Sean and his dad bonded over their mutual hatred towards these other officers and statesmen. Many nights, his dad would pass out drunk, and Sean took those opportunities to use his dad's terminal, which his dad never logged off. He spent hours, reading classified documents, and learning the inner workings of the organization his dad had dedicated his life to.

 

Sean delighted in discovering the high-stakes crimes committed in inter-stellar politics and learned the ways StarFleet’s investigative branch worked. His dad oversaw the weaponry division of the entire fleet. This included cutting edge technologies aimed at improving physical weapons like photon torpedoes and phasers, as well as developing the latest chemical and biological means of warfare.

 

He read all of his dad's electronic communications and his admiration for his father grew even more, when he realized what his dad was up against. He never told his father, of course, of this breach of security.

 

In their second year, when Hachiro had flunked Stellar Cartography by just one point and was going to be chucked out of StarFleet, Sean had used his dad's influence to save Hachiro's career. Since then, Hachiro had stopped complaining to Sean's ministrations.

 

Sean himself had flunked almost every year in one of the boring courses StarFleet tortured them with. Computers were his passion and he was good at sciences too. But he couldn't care less to learn about topics like Interspecies Ethics or Early Starfleet History. His dad always took care of the pesky issue of his failing, and he had sailed through the four years so far.

 

 

He never changed his name back to Sean Burke. The fact that no one connected him to his dad, played out in his favor, and he liked it that way.

 

Sean was used to having his way. He had never found anyone truly desirable though. He just used people to satisfy his hunger. When the batch of new Cadets started in July, Sean was confused at his reaction to one particular trainee. The first day, Sean had idly observed him from a distance. The young man was strikingly handsome. Within the first week, judging by the circle of other students the plebe surrounded himself with, he was popular too.

 

Sean had introduced himself one morning in the cafeteria. For the first time since he could remember, Finnegan had wanted to be _friends_ with someone. Something about the blonde youth enticed him. He had learnt the name - James T. Kirk but then this Kirk had brushed Finnegan aside with a smile and walked away. _How dare he!_

 

Over the next weeks, Finnegan had tried to charm Kirk by playing some of his practical jokes. But, his plans backfired. Kirk showed no interested in Sean. He would watch Kirk from a distance, he would follow him around the campus and soon he knew the circle of friends the first year hung out with. Sean had next tried to use his humor and looks on those friends, to find a way to be included in Kirk's group. That too had backfired.

 

Then, he had heard about how Kirk's roommate, had instead managed to do, what Sean hadn't. When Finnegan observed those two - the Russian fawning over Kirk, and Kirk always smiling and looking at Cadet Ivanov with loving eyes - he was beyond infuriated. Standing over 6 feet tall, all muscles, Sean could have easily beaten any of them right there, if he wanted to. But, that would be too small a price to pay for rejecting him. No, they would pay with their very lives.

 

He had come up with a perfect plan. He laid out all the steps carefully and worked out the details over the next few days. It worked partially. Ivanov survived but at least left StarFleet forever. But Kirk, not only had he miraculously survived, but he was more popular than ever. Every time Sean saw the hazel eyed cadet smiling and laughing with his friends, or walking with the disgusting alien he had acquired, Sean's blood boiled.  

 

Tonight, Sean was going to finish what he had started. His dad would be proud of him, he knew, though he didn't tell anyone anything. No one ever doubted him anyways. He was just a clown.

Stepping out of his building, into the cold night air, he slapped on the cartoonish smile on his face and caught a hovercraft going towards downtown San Francisco.

 

 

 

 


	29. Explosion

Jim watched the beads of condensation on the surface of the glass. Slowly, each bead expanded and reached out to its neighbor, and they merged. Then as if holding hands, the two beads, now a single drop, ran down the glass in joyful abandon, leaving a trail behind.

 

The bartender had taken pity on him, after watching Jim sit with a glass of water, and offered him a drink on the house. Jim raised the glass and watched the burgundy colored liquid - an Andorian wine - swirl inside. He had thanked her, and accepted the drink gracefully. There was no point in explaining why he was on a water diet, in a bar, sitting alone while everyone else was having the time of their life. She was pretty, as was every girl who had approached him so far. They were all probably smart too, being cadets, but Jim had zero interest in any of them. _Just grand. This is what my life has come to._ He thought bitterly. Jim didn't drink much, but tonight, he actually wanted to get drunk out of his mind.

 

He put the glass down, untouched, and closed his eyes. The images from earlier this evening flashed by in his mind.

 

(A few hours ago)

 

 _Jim knew he had overslept, as soon as his mind started returning to consciousness. He didn't even have to consult the computer, the hunger in his belly alone told him he had missed breakfast, if not lunch. Oh, well. He had really needed to sleep, so it was okay. It was not as if there was any place for him to go - the next quarter wouldn't start till a week later. The only reason he had not wanted to miss his morning run and breakfast_ _,_ _was Spock. Jim sat up, and smiled at himself, when he remembered he had fallen asleep with his shoes on. He undressed himself slowly, sleep still clouding his brain. Finally, he did look at the chronometer. It was 1500 hours. So, he had actually missed lunch too! Wow. If there was ever a competition on wacko sleep habits, Jim was pretty sure he would top it easily._

_Clad only in his underwear, he padded to his study desk and checked his comm. Sure enough, there were messages waiting for him. He scrolled through them._

_Two were from Bones. One was for missing breakfast and the other for reminding him to be careful at the party tonight. One was from Valas, warning him that they would pick him at 1800 hours sharp, and that he better have his socks in order. Jim chuckled. Third one was from Nathan, basically saying the same thing as Valas, but also reminding him that it was her birthday. Jim replied back to him and thanked the dude. The last one was a system message letting him know, that his grades had been posted._

_Jim immediately logged on to his PADD and glanced at his results. He had topped almost every single subject, he saw. Out of the three he didn't top, in two, he had tied with another cadet. And in the last one, the same cadet beat him. Jim looked at the name of the cadet who had managed to match him and defeat him - it was Ruth. The subjects were Forensic Psychology, Advanced Neuropsychology and Molecular and_ _C_ _ellular_ _N_ _euroscience. He liked her more than ever now. His grades were in percentile_ _,_ _so it only applied to the current batch. He would have to work at some Math to compare his absolute scores to Spock's, who had taken the exams a year earlier. That could wait. First, he needed to shower and eat. He debated in which order to go about doing those, and decided to grab some food first._

_Dressed casually in slacks and a full sleeve shirt - the regulation about uniforms didn't apply as much on off days like today - he jogged the entire way to the cafeteria. It was mostly empty, given the late hour_ _,_ _for anyone to eat meals. He raided the synthesizers, filling a bag with three entrees, drinks_ _,_ _and as a reward for himself - a dessert. On his way back, he picked up a huge bouquet of flowers for Valas. Back in his room, he gobbled up everything - he was not going to eat anything at the party tonight after all - while replying to all of his messages, plus sent out a few more to his other friends, enquiring_ _as to_ _their grades and plans for tonight. Licking his fingers, he cleared the last crumbs of the dessert. It was 1650 already._

_He went to his dresser, pondering what to wear. He chose a_ _pair of_ _dark wash jeans, which he knew fit him exceedingly well, and then decided on a shirt with a V-neck collar, which he_ _had_ _owned for many years now, but saved it for special occasions. He had always received compliments in it. He laid all of the clothes on his bed, including socks, and whistling a tune to himself, went inside the bathroom._

_Jim took a hot shower, taking his time relishing the feeling of water wash_ _ing_ _over his skin. He brushed, shaved and then worked on the mop of hair on his head. He usually just let it air-dry but tonight, he was going all out, in honor of Valas. He glanced nervously at the chronometer - he didn't want to build a reputation_ _with_ _his friends of being late. He actually valued punctuality. It was 1730 hours. Conceding that his reflection looked as good as it would ever get, Jim emerged from the bathroom. He was putting on his socks, when_ _,_ _on hearing a knock on the door_ _,_ _he frowned. He still had 30 minutes!_

_Valas was probably too excited, he thought, and went to get the door, hurriedly pulling his jeans up his legs. The door swung open_ _,_ _and Jim's teasing words for Valas died in his throat._

_Standing in the deserted corridor, clothed head to toe in black, the pink lips and pale skin in contrast, stood Spock._

_The dark hair, which usually lay perfectly smooth, had a slight frizz to it and water droplets clung to the ends. A small corner of Jim's brain wondered if it had started drizzling outside. Spock was dressed in weird clothing; it was smooth, dark and clung to him, outlining every single centimeter on the slender yet powerful body. Jim realized his eyes had travelled down_ _,_ _and were no longer on Spock's face_ _._ _He_ _blinked, and looked up to see Spock's intense gaze boring into him._

_The dark eyes took in Jim's hair, and Jim blushed remembering all that effort he had put into it. Then they slowly started descending down Jim's body, and he was suddenly conscious of his bare upper half, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Spock's eyes paused at his pale pink nipples, then again on the trail of fine hair on Jim's abdomen, and continued downward until they reached the half-buttoned up seams of the jeans. Jim felt like his skin had erupted in flames._

_Spock stepped one foot forward_ _,_ _and cool fingers brushed lightly against Jim's taut stomach. He buttoned up Jim's jeans so they were no longer open at the top, and took a step back again. But, Jim's brain had completely fizzled out. A low moan escaped him, at the touch, and he forgot all the rules and etiquettes he had been observing about Vulcans._

_He clutched at the Vulcan's collar and yanked him inside, shutting the door with one foot and slammed Spock against the wall next to the door. Spock's eyes grew wide. Jim's whole body had gone stiff and all he could think_ _of,_ _was devouring this man who had tormented him from day one, and now, not having seen him in almost a month, Jim couldn't think straight. He roughly thrust one leg in between Spock's thighs, and leaned in towards those lips, his heart pounding, his need aching. A low deep groan escaped Spock's mouth at their legs making contact. Jim's insides lurched at that small sound - he had never heard Spock lose control before. Jim's eyes closed out of their own volition, as his lips touched Spock's soft ones._

_The next moment, he was completely disoriented, when first he found himself up in the air and then crashing painfully into his bed. The wind had been knocked out of him. His jaw slacked open in shock. Spock had bodily lifted him up, all of his muscled weight, with seemingly no effort_ _,_ _and thrown him like a rag doll! The Vulcan was leaning over him on the bed, holding down both of Jim's wrists under cool fingers. The only sounds in the room were their collective jagged breaths._

_Jim had never been so turned on in his whole life. Working completely on raw instinct, he suddenly wrapped his legs around Spock's waist and twisted him around. Taking advantage of the momentary surprise that Spock experienced at Jim's maneuvering, his wrists slid free from the loosened Vulcan grip. He was on top of Spock, trying to pin him down, and then Jim ground his groin against Spock's, overcome with want._

_Spock let out a guttural cry at the contact. Nails dug in into human flesh, as Spock grasped Jim's bare arms, and then Spock’s lips and teeth closed upon the curve of his shoulders.  Jim sensed a prick of pain through the haze of his arousal. He let out a surprised choked gasp. The Vulcan’s teeth had apparently broken skin._

_Spock went deathly still under him. When Jim managed to focus his eyes back on Spock, the dark eyes had turned ice cold. In yet_ _another_ _display of immense strength, the Vulcan moved with a sudden determination, and put Jim back down on the bed. Jim immediately started fighting back. Spock growled, "Cease resisting me!"_

_" **You** stop fighting **me**!" Jim hissed back. _

_He was going literally insane; somehow his own desire seemed multiplied by a thousand. Spock closed his eyes, and with a firm push, leaped out of the bed, breaking free from Jim's contact. Spock went and stood against the wall, staring at Jim, his breath coming in short gasps._

_Jim_ _lay on his back,_ _glaring back from the bed, unable to decide if he wanted to pound Spock out of_ _frustration_ _or hunger. His shoulder stung. He had never been bitten before. The raw and primal act, and that, too_ _,_ _coming from Spock, confused him._

_Spock brought both his hands together in front of him and made a double fist. Through clenched teeth, he said, "Jim, you must exercise restraint and patience, for your own sake."_

_Jim exploded._

_"I have been the epitome of patience! I have not laid a hand on you in all these months. Do you have any freaking idea how hard it is? I dare you to go find another twenty something human male in the entire galaxy, who has shown more restraint. And you have the gall, to lecture me, about my_ _own_ _sake!"_

_At Jim's outburst, Spock seemed to calm down a bit. He looked at Jim, with an expression which may have been fond, but Jim was absolutely livid and frustrated._

_There was a knock and Valas' cheerful voice floated inside, "I hope you're ready, Kirk!"_

_Spock went very still_ _, again_ _. Jim swore, got up from_ _his_ _bed_ _,_ _and in a swift movement picked_ _up_ _the shirt he had laid_ _out_ _earlier. Buttoning with one hand, he snatched a coat from his closet and put it on. He finished buttoning and with his free hand, clasped a bottle of water to a hook on his jeans. He picked the bouquet of flowers with_ _the other_ _. Then, he bent down and picked up his shoes, and without another word or glance, went to open the door, shoes in hand. Holding the flowers in front of him as a shield, and grateful that he was wearing jeans, he was about to exit his room, when slender fingers gripped his forearm. Jim turned towards Spock furiously, and saw Spock's other hand extended towards him. His communicator lay in the open palm. Their eyes met - dark blown pupils burning into his. Jim snatched the communicator_ _,_ _and then exited his room, pulling the door shut behind him so forcefully that it rattled._

That had been more than four hours ago. Jim was feeling terrible, once he had calmed down. Though he had come to the party, his mood was sour. He sat alone at the bar drowning in misery. What he had said to Spock was true. He had truly been exasperated at that moment, but that had been his hormones talking. Granted, that was a huge part of who he was as a man, but it was not the primary part. Would Spock understand? He had missed Spock so badly, and then, had been so utterly unprepared to see him at his door, that he had messed up. He was just a human, after all.

 

If only he could stop feeling like a horny beast in Spock's presence. He didn't get it. He had never behaved like a wild man before, and he sure was no virgin. This was not his first time. Willingly as well as unwillingly, Jim had enough sexual experiences so far, to know when to stop. But earlier in his room, it felt as if his mind was exploding with the intensity of his need. Jim was worried if this was healthy. If he continued to behave this way, he wouldn't blame Spock if he considered Jim mentally unstable.

 

In irritation, Jim bunched his hands into fists, and put them up on the bar's countertop. He was glad everyone was too busy to pay him any attention. He put his head down on his hands and tried to get a hold on himself. The loud music and the dim lighting were really starting to get on his nerves. He started feeling claustrophobic. Jim had done his part; he had come to Valas' celebration but he could no longer stand it. No one would miss him. He got up, collected his coat from the coat room, and left the building quietly.

 

Outside, the night was refreshingly cool. Once the soundproof doors closed behind him, his ears stopped ringing from the deafening music. Jim looked up. It was a moonless night. The establishment he had been, in downtown, was situated with its back facing the bay, and a long narrow pier ran behind it, extending into the water. Jim found this ironic. No one inside seemed to care about the natural beauty outside.

 

He was in no hurry to go back to his room. In fact, he was dreading returning.

 

Jim turned the corner of the building, and started walking on the narrow plank. He walked all the way till the pier ended, and sat down with his legs dangling. Black water gently splashed into the pier's pylons beneath his feet. There was a bigger, wider pier which ran parallel, to the left, at some distance. Some tourists lurked there, even at this late hour. Jim wanted to be away from everyone, and he welcomed the solitude.

 

Shouting at Spock felt pathetic now. For all he knew, Spock probably felt nothing like Jim did. Maybe Vulcans didn't even kiss? The Federation databases had nothing on this aspect of Vulcan life. He had forgotten, in his white hot need that his friend was truly an alien, and they probably had to talk first and acknowledge what was going on between them, before Jim had any right to claim Spock. The wound on his shoulder was still fresh. Jim was ashamed that he had made his friend so angry with his idiotic actions that the Vulcan had to resort to some kind of animalistic attack, to fend Jim off.

 

The truth was, even if Spock didn't, or couldn't, reciprocate Jim’s affections in a physical way, the Vulcan had clearly reciprocated Jim's friendship. Spock had literally saved Jim's life! How could he have been so callous towards Spock, who had been nothing but kind and gentle towards Jim? Did he really want to lose this friendship over his lust?

 

Jim rubbed his left thumb into his right palm. Unshed tears stung his eyes. He couldn't remember the last time a misunderstanding with a friend had caused him this much heartache.

 

 

                                                                                                                       ******

 

 

 

"Jim." Spock's whisper was too late. The door had been closed. Jim had left, and with him, seemed to have taken all the energy in the room. Spock stood resting his forehead on the door, his hand raised, in a futile gesture.

 

How had everything gone so wrong? Jim could not be blamed. He had acted like a normal young man. But, Spock? His own actions and complete loss of control was inexcusable. This was the second time he had hurt Jim. The first time he had nearly broken his human's wrist, and now, he had managed to tear Jim's flesh with a bite. There was no forgiving his actions. None.

 

He stood there, rooted in absolute agony, for a long time. Finally, slowly, he turned away from the door and looked at Jim's room. Remains of an eaten meal could be seen on the study desk, in the dim light coming from the window. Jim's open PADD glowed in the now dark room. Spock walked over to the PADD and looked at it. The screen was open to the results of first year's examinations. Spock noted Jim's success. Everything Jim did was successful, and Spock seemed to be the only unnecessary source of complication in his life.

 

The realization made it difficult to breath.

 

A corner of his brain was starting to link together seemingly random facts. The dawning conclusion distracted him, and he let his logical side, once again, guide him. Staring at Jim's PADD, he suddenly recalled the date from one of the colorful notes he had stuck on his wall.

 

  22 August a.m - Cadet Kirk shows up late to class. Missing PADD.

 

  It was the same day Cadet Ivanov had been attacked. If the attacker had somehow gained entry to Jim's room, and left a note with threatening words, it was entirely possible that the same attacker had also taken Jim's PADD. It was possible then, that this “incident” was what he had glimpsed in Jim’s mind during the mind meld.

 

It had not made any sense earlier, as to why someone would steal Jim's PADD. Another piece of data flashed by Spock's eyes.

 

**Name of drug                                     Date of transaction                                         Initiated by**

**\---------------------                ----------------------------              -----------------**

**Nerophrene                                      2252.8 (August 22)                                     James T. Kirk. Serial number:SC937-0176CEC**

It was 22 August again, when the drug had been requested. Spock crossed his arms over his chest and started pacing back and forth in the dark room.

 

If the two attacks were by the same person, then the only common link between the two attacks was Cadet Finnegan. His father had approved the drug. Since Spock now knew that Finnegan was an A-4 classified computer expert, it was logically possible, that it was Finnegan who was behind the first crime as well.

 

Evidence suggested that Finnegan had not only stolen the PADD, but used it to initiate the request, thereby causing Jim's PADD's unique identifier, to be logged by the system. Spock did not know how, but somehow, the PADD must have been returned. Spock frowned. There was no way to prove the theft, since Jim seemed to have not made any complaint to campus security about a stolen PADD.

 

If this was true, Finnegan had been the one who had assaulted Cadet Ivanov, and ended his career. Spock was still in the dark about the motivation behind Cadet Finnegan's serious crimes.

 

The new revelation calmed Spock, and his emotions were somewhat back under control. He was still distraught over his earlier behavior, and also sure that he was causing Jim undeserved pain. This whole idea of coming to Jim's room, itself, had been an action driven by impulse. He should never have come.

 

It was too late to change that now. He had already come and wreaked havoc. But, he _could_ control the future. He could leave. Taking one last look at the room, he inhaled the scent of his human and committed it to memory. Then, Spock left, closing the door gently behind him, the automatic locking system clicking into place.

 

 

 

 

 


	30. Ruth

"I'm going to the ladies room." Aretta informed Ruth and left.

 

Ruth was wondering how long before this party would wrap up. No one showed any inclination of stopping, but Ruth was so done. She went back to the table they had been sitting at earlier, and found her drink was still where she had left it. She took a sip finally, and then, her eyes went to the spot, which Aretta wouldn't have wanted her to look at. Just a few minutes ago, when Ruth had stolen a glance for the thousandth time that night, the sight of the man who was always radiant, but now bent over the countertop in a slump, twisted her heart. As the night had deepened, her initial reason to keep looking at Jim had turned to one of real concern. Something was bothering him greatly and Ruth couldn't shake it off.

 

Her eyes landed back on the spot, and to her surprise it was empty. The bar stool which Jim had been sitting on was still revolving of inertia. Ruth's eyes automatically went to the exit doors but it seemed Jim had already left. Ruth sighed. She was about to turn her head back, when she noticed a dark shadow peel from the other side of the huge room, walk to the exit doors and leave. The way the man walked, almost slithered, and how he seem to deliberately keep to the shadows made the hair on the back of Ruth's neck stand up. Inexplicably, she was suddenly on edge. She tried to shrug it off, and scanned the crowd for her girlfriend. But, a deep foreboding descended down on her. Her stomach was in a knot. Klaxon bells started ringing in her head. _Something wasn't right._

 

Feeling like she had finally lost her sanity, Ruth got up and started walking towards the exit. She didn't know what she was doing, and why, but the knot in her stomach wouldn't ease. She desperately looked for Aretta, but her friend was still inside the restroom. Ruth quickened her steps and spoke rapidly into her communicator and left Aretta a short message. Then, she pushed the heavy doors open and left the cacophony behind.

 

The first thing she noticed was how much colder the air had gotten since they had been inside. It didn't help that she was dressed in a tiny skirt and a sleeveless thin blouse. Wrapping her arms around herself and shivering slightly, Ruth took a few steps. Her six inch heels clicked loudly as she walked and the noise was so jarring, that she immediately stopped.

 

She tried to tell herself that Jim must have caught a hovercraft and left. But, her instincts were on fire. Ruth bent down, removed her heels, and holding them in one hand, stepped off the concrete. She walked softly up the patch of grass to the main road which passed by the bar's front. She looked left and right, and for kilometers, there was nothing to be seen.

 

 

There was no one around. The whole area was deserted. Light from the bar's entrance illuminated the immediate vicinity, but beyond it, her eyes couldn't make out much. The bar was the last building on the street and towards to the right, as far as she could see, was empty stretch of land. On her left there were a few more shops, but all were closed.

 

 

So, she decided to walk back into the bar. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness by now. That's when she noticed the long narrow shape of a pier, which seemed to disappear into the sea, somewhere behind the building. She promised herself that it was the last thing she would check out. Walking silently, trying not to draw attention to herself, Ruth tip-toed back across the front of the bar. She had just cleared the building's corner, from where she could now see the bay and the rest of the pier, when she heard it.

 

A soft splash of something hitting water.

She froze. For few moments nothing happened, and then her ears picked up the words spoken in an Irish accent, very low but clear.

"Sleep Jimmy boy, sleep forever."

 

Shocked, Ruth took an involuntary step back and melted into the shadows. She stood flush against the side wall of the establishment, not daring to breathe. A tall, dark figure was walking towards in her general direction, emerging from the misty far end of the pier. The fog and darkness made it difficult to see his face. But Ruth immediately knew this was the same man she had seen leave the bar. And the name “Jimmy boy” was a reference to Jim. And that splash could mean only one thing.

 

Terror flooded her as the man closed the distance between where she was hiding, and him. Ruth had never been particularly physically strong, though as a cadet she was trained like others. But, even if she had been like Aretta, she knew she would never stand a chance against that tall and muscular build.

 

She didn't know how many seconds had passed, but a part of her brain, the one which was trained for medical emergencies, started counting. She had at most two minutes before Jim would probably drown. The fact that she heard no water splashing or sounds of someone trying to stay afloat, meant Jim was either already dead, or had been rendered unconscious before he hit the water.

 

She wanted to make a mad dash towards the water, but the man would simply catch her and probably kill her too. So, she waited with bated breath - counting as the precious seconds passed by, as the love of her life was somewhere in those dark waters, fighting for his life.

 

The man stepped off the pier and onto the green grass, and started walking away from her towards the main road. Ruth silently prayed he would keep walking and leave the premises.

 

But, when he was almost to the main road, abruptly he stopped. His head whipped in the direction of Ruth and he seemed to focus intently in the dark space she was frozen into.

_She had been spotted._

And then Ruth heard the most blood-curdling laugh she had ever heard. The sound was almost not human. Like a predator, he pivoted and started stalking towards her, his teeth flashing in the darkness - the grin frightening Ruth more than anything else.

 

Unconsciously, she tried to pull her short skirt down with her hands, in vain. She was practically naked, exposed and completely unarmed. She could turn back and run to the bar. She probably had a 50/50 chance of making it but the counting in her head continued. She couldn't leave Jim behind, but at the same time, the terror of what was going to happen to her, made her whimper.

The man hissed another laugh at the sound of her crying. Anger at the monster, panic at her own impending assault, and anguish over Jim, battled inside her. Anger won.

 

Ruth gripped each of her heels in either hand, the spikes pointed away from her. She took a deep breath, and straightened her spine to her full height. With her feet planted shoulder width apart, trembling from head to feet, she got ready to fight. Though she was under no illusion of how this was going to end, she was going to go down fighting, not whimpering.

 

"Go ahead, touch her, you are on live feed." A calm voice spoke from some distance away behind Ruth. _Aretta! She must have gotten Ruth's message and come looking for her._

 Relief and alarm clashed inside Ruth. Relief at the distraction, and alarm that her friend too, was now in mortal danger, because of Ruth.

The man had gone motionless. Ruth didn't dare to look back at her friend.

 

Aretta spoke again. "You see my communicator? Well, my friends and I tweaked it - as an engineering challenge. So now, with the press of this button, every single thing you do is being recorded live and fed to a terminal at the Academy. So, I dare you to touch her." Ruth marveled at the icy calm in Aretta's voice. And since when was her communicator a live recording device? Ruth would know. Aretta told her every single crazy experiment she and her buddies were up to. She realized Aretta was bluffing. _Bless her heart!_

It seemed to be working though. For now. The monster had stopped on the slope next to the main road, and seemed to be considering her words seriously.

 

It was now or never!

 

Ruth dropped her heels to the ground, and every cell in her body screamed as she launched into a sprint, keeping as much distance she could between her and the man. But, if he wanted, he could take a few steps, and grab her easily. She ran past him at a few meters distance, and then she was on the pier!

 

Naked feet flying on the rough wooden planks, tears running down her face, the cold air whipping across her body, Ruth ran with everything she had. She reached the end of the landing and without a pause, she jumped off and plunged into the pitch black darkness below.

 

 

The first thing that she registered was the cold. The shock of hitting the water knocked the wind out of her. She momentarily lost all her bearings as her body started cramping. But then her training kicked in. Ruth was part of the medical emergency rescue squad, and part of her training had included water survival and rescue techniques. Even as she forced herself to go deeper into the water, she realized she had very little time left, before her own body would succumb. The water was murky but thankfully, it wasn't too deep. She frantically looked around the floor of the bay, right below the jetty, and then she saw him!

 

_Jim! Oh God, Jim! Please be alive!_

She put one arm under his limp body, and kicked off the floor. But, she wasn't prepared for the weight. Jim was like a dead log and Ruth started struggling to pull him up. Her own lungs were now straining.

 

She was not going to make it. Panic started overtaking her again. Kicking with all her strength, she tried to command her brain to act rationally, and not give in to the flight and fight response. Jim started slipping away from her grasp.

_NOOO!_

In a moment of sudden clarity, and utter calm, the kind which hits before death, Ruth knew whose life she valued more. With the last remaining reserves of energy her body had left, she valiantly kicked her way up. As she neared the surface, she heard voices, and footsteps, running above her head on the pier.

_Help was here! Jim would live!_

She positioned Jim so that he was now resting on both her hands and pushed him up, her muscles tearing apart with the effort. Her own body still submerged, she heard him break the surface, above her head. Then, she felt someone pulling him, up and up, out of her trembling hands and reach. And he was gone!

 

Ruth's remaining oxygen supply left her as utter exhaustion took over. She couldn't move even a finger. She didn't care anymore. She just wanted to rest. Blackness enveloped her as she felt her body slowly descending down.

A smile ghosted over her lips. Her last conscious thoughts were that Jim would live.

 

 

 

                                                                     **********

 

 

Leonard was seriously beginning to suspect if somehow, someone had placed a curse on Jim.

 

He checked the monitors and let out a long suffering sigh. Jim would live. The youngster seemed to have the nine lives of a cat. But, it had come close. Too damn close. Had it been another few seconds, it would have been too late. The paramedics had saved his life. But, the true savior was, to McCoy's surprise, Ruth. As if Jim wasn't a handful already, now his sweet, sensible assistant had gone over the deep edge as well.

 

He administered another hypo, to make sure Jim would be under for some more time, and went to the room next doors.

 

It was the same sight. A motionless figure in a bio-bed. Only, this one was fighting death. He and the doctor on call last night, had done everything they could, but Ruth's body had taken too much water, and by the time, she was rescued, she had blacked out. Modern medicine could only do so much. Unlike Jim, Ruth was also frailer.

 

Leonard walked over to the tall, dark haired cadet sitting beside Ruth's bed, holding her hand.

"Aretta, why don't you go take some rest? I promise to let you know if there is any change."

 

The cadet simply shook her head, her eyes on Ruth's face, her fingers entwined with Ruth's unresponsive ones.

 

 _Damn!_ McCoy felt helpless at times like this. There was nothing he could do, and a precious life was slipping away right under his nose. He was disgusted at his own inability.

 

At least Ruth was not alone, he thought. McCoy knew and believed that, even in coma, a person could still feel when a loved one was nearby. If Ruth didn't make it, she would at least know that in her last moments, her friend had held her hand every second of the way.

 

He couldn't look anymore. He turned and left the room, feeling the weight of the grief crash on him. In the other room, Jim was recovering all right. But, when he woke up, how would he react? If Ruth didn't make it, how would Jim handle knowing that she had died for him? No one could accept such a sacrifice without it messing up their head.

 

McCoy took out his communicator. No new messages.

 _Where the hell was the green blooded hobgoblin?_ The last time Jim was here, the Vulcan had been glued to Jim. And never had he known Spock to not reply to McCoy's messages, especially, when Jim's health was concerned.

 

If Jim woke up before Spock showed up, Leonard knew how his young friend would react. And Leonard was absolutely not prepared to see that pain in those hazel eyes again.

He sent another message to Spock, making it clear that he was needed, here, right now.

 

Leonard went to his lab, trying to busy himself, in an attempt to take his mind off the mess on his hands. When Jim and Ruth had been brought in late last night, he had been asleep in his apartment. The doctor on duty was his friend, and had alerted him, and that was how he was back at the hospital, having barely gotten five hours of sleep after a grueling shift yesterday.

 

He sat at his desk, staring at the terminal bleary eyed, but his mind was elsewhere.

 

Aretta had identified the man who had tried to attack Ruth as a fourth year cadet named Finnegan. She didn't know what exactly had transpired before she had been able to come to Ruth’s rescue, but it was reasonable to assume, this Finnegan guy had attacked Jim too, and Ruth had somehow stumbled upon the scene.

 

McCoy suddenly missed Spock. This was exactly the kind of discussion the Vulcan would have excelled at, using his logical deductions. All Leonard knew, was that he had never heard of this Finnegan, and the last Spock had talked to him, it was about Nerophrene, and something to do with an Admiral called Burke. Damn it, he was a doctor, not an investigator!

 

His communicator beeped. McCoy almost dropped it in his haste to get it out of his waist clip. A blinking light indicated a new message. Finally Spock had answered!

 

A frown started forming on his face, and then his blue eyes nearly popped out of his head.

 

"This number is no longer active. All enquiries must be directed to Lt. Cmdr. Robbins or Captain Pike."

 

_What?????!!!_

 

Leonard shut and rubbed his eyes. The long hours and sleep deprivation must be getting to him. He rubbed a tired hand across his face, slowly opened his eyes again and peeked at the message. The words hadn't changed.

He sat in utter shock. The communicator clattered to his desk, slipping past his fingers.

 

What the hell did that even mean - was no longer active? He knew of Captain Pike, not Robbins. Pike was the ranking official, who oversaw the Academy's affairs, until next year.

 

His pager beeped. _Now what?_

With a shaking hand, he whipped out his pager from his pocket, and saw that Jim's vitals were changing. He would soon be waking up.

 

Muttering under his breath, all the way to Jim's room, McCoy cursed everything under the sun.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to mention this hauntingly beautiful score, if you haven't heard it already.
> 
> "Ruth" by Gerald Fried and Alexander Courage.
> 
>    
> It's on YouTube - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=194h6lWJDE8
> 
>  


	31. Drowning

Jim studied the sterile ceiling over his bio-bed. He was familiar with the surroundings to know exactly where he was. He didn't try to sit up or do anything stupid. His eyes went to the door when he heard footsteps approaching.

 

It was Bones. Of course.

 

McCoy came over and ran a tricorder over Jim, and checked the gazillion monitors around Jim.

"How do you feel?" The doctor's voice was devoid of the customary bite.

"Nothing hurts."

McCoy nodded. He pulled a chair from the wall and sat next to Jim.

 

"Why am I here, Bones?"

"What do you remember?"

 

Jim looked up at the ceiling again.

"I - I remember being outside, taking a break from the party."

McCoy chewed his lower lip.

"There was  a big lump on the back of your skull. You were brought here last night. So, someone sneaked up behind you and clobbered you. What I wanna know is why were you out there, and not inside with everyone?"

 

Jim looked straight ahead at the wall and didn't say anything. A huge painting, of a serene country side, hung there.

"Jim? What's the matter? I thought you wanted to go to that party? You were pretty excited about it when you asked my permission."

"I just needed a breath of fresh air."

 

"That's not what I hear though. It seems you were pretty down the entire evening."

Jim looked at McCoy sharply.

"Care to tell me what's bothering you?" Bones drawled and crossed his arms across his chest.

 

Jim took a deep breath.

"I had a fight with Spock." It sounded childish, even as he said it. As if they were a couple of boys squabbling over a toy.

"A fight?" McCoy's eyebrows rose up. "Didn't know Vulcans could fight. You mean an argument?"

 

"Something like that." Jim squirmed a bit in his bed.

 

Bones didn't say anything. Jim could feel the blue eyes studying him, so he finally looked at Bones with a challenging glare. He wasn't going to tell Bones, what actually happened with Spock. There were no words and no explanation. Besides, it was personal.

 

"So, how did I end up here?" He tried to steer the conversation away from the uncomfortable topic.

"You were drowning and were rescued." Bones replied.

"Seriously?!"

"Uh-uh. You would be dead had help arrived a few seconds late. You don't remember how you ended up in the water?"

Jim shook his head and regretted it immediately, the movement causing sparks of pain.

"So, whoever hit you, must have pushed you in the water hoping you would drown." Bones continued.

 

Jim absorbed that. In spite of all his precautions, here he was again.

"Apparently....and it would like an accident or even a suicide?" Jim observed.

 

Bones sighed loudly.

"This better be the last time, kiddo. I am not sure even you can cheat death again."

 

Jim suddenly noticed the dark circles under his friend's eyes. Bones looked exhausted. Jim lifted his arm and placed it on his friend's knees.

"Don't thank me." McCoy grumbled. "I didn't do anything this time."

"You always do, Bones. I dunno what I did to deserve you." At Bones' grunt, Jim continued, "So who should I thank then, since you seem pissed that it wasn’t you?" A tiny smile appeared on Jim's lips.

 

McCoy reacted with a grimace.

"Ruth."

"Ruth?" Jim was surprised.

"She pulled you out of the water."

"Oh!" Jim let that sink in. What was Ruth doing while he was drowning? This was beginning to sound complicated.

"Why isn't she here, Bones? I want to thank her." In the past, she was always next to Bones, checking on him.

 

Bones grimaced again.

"She - umm, she isn't doing that well, Jim. She almost drowned herself." Bones spoke in a low voice.

 

Jim was stunned.

"Are you telling me she - she - somehow she -" Jim couldn't finish his question. Horror began to dawn on him.

"Yes." Bones quietly replied.

"Shit!" Jim's eyes were round with the realization.

 

Jim closed his eyes and let his head fall back on the pillow on the raised headrest. Nothing coherent formed in his mind. He let his emotions run amok. After a while, he opened his eyes, and looked at Bones.

"What happened then? She pulled me out of water and...?"

Bones told him what he knew. Mostly, everything that Aretta had told him and the officers who took her testimony. How she and Ruth were at the party, how her friend had been worried about Jim, how Jim had been acting the entire evening, how Aretta had gone to the restroom and then saw Ruth's message, and how she had stumbled upon the madman who was about to rape Ruth.

 

"Finnegan?" Jim sat up straight at the name.

"Yup. She identified him. Knew him from around the campus."

"Where's the bastard?"

"He ran away. Escaped. Her bluff apparently scared him. She then called the rescue ops, and since then she has been with Ruth, next door. She doesn't know any more now, than you or I do." McCoy uncrossed his arms and adjusted an IV line running into Jim's left wrist.

 

"This is messed up, Bones." Jim said wearily.

"I know, kid. I know."

"I can't believe Finnegan has run away. What if they don't find him? He has harassed so many people Bones. It's not just me." Jim spoke, his voice tight with rage.

"Calm down, Jim. No good getting yourself worked up. I am sure he won't get far. These are trained operatives, hunting for him right now." Bones reassured his friend and patient.

 

Jim covered his face with his palms, and winced as the IV line tugged at his skin. He let his left wrist drop.

"Does Spock know?" He asked with his right palm over his eyes. He was feeling overwhelmed.

 

Bones looked like he had swallowed a bitter pill.

"This is so not my kind of day," he muttered.

 

Jim stopped rubbing his eyes, and looked up in alarm.

"Bones? Has something happened to - no, please, I can't. Bones??? Is Spock ok?" Jim's heart went berserk.

 

McCoy looked up the monitor, noticing the racing heartbeat, and laid a hand on Jim's forearm, avoiding the IV line.

"Jim, I think he is okay. Breathe kid. I don't want to hypo you again." Then, Bones told Jim about the message, all the while keeping an eye on Jim's vitals.

 

"No longer active?" Jim spluttered.

McCoy nodded.

"What does that mean?" Jim's eyes begged.

"I dunno honestly. I just found out, and haven't had the time to figure out what's going on." Bones stood up and watched the monitors with concern.

"Your adrenaline and cortisol levels are rising dangerously. I am going to hypo you, you need a break."  Before Jim could process what Bones was saying, he felt the prick of a hypo.

 

For once, Jim was grateful for the calm that cocooned him and he let himself go.

 

 

                                                     

* * *

 

 

 

 

Jim sat on his bed like a statue, waiting for the alarm to sound off, to officially begin the day. When it did sound, the chronometer told him the night had ended. He wasn't sure though, if it indeed had.

 

Jim had lain all night on his bed, staring into the inky black of the night, waiting for his own dawn to arrive. It wasn't coming. He seemed to be stuck in a personal hell of perpetual darkness. He looked out his window. He used to love doing that. Now, the sky always seemed grey. The nights and days didn't make any sense. It was all a continuous ordeal of misery.

 

He had requested Bones to give him one week.

 

A week before today, Jim had recovered and was discharged from the hospital. What he had not been prepared for, was the conversation with Captain Pike, which followed his discharge. The physical catastrophe of drowning now seemed like a cruel joke.

The exchange he had with Captain Pike, upon returning to his room, over the Academy's messaging system seemed to be stuck in his head, playing on an unending 24 hour loop.

 

Pike's expression had appeared grim and professional on the screen. He was a handsome man, not as old as Jim had thought a Captain would be. Jim had felt unusually nervous.

 

"Sir, I am a friend of Cadet Spock, as you may know. We were just wondering about Spock. He has not been returning our messages. He usually hangs out with us."

"I was expecting your message, Kirk." Pike had replied. "Mr. Spock has decided to end his engagement with StarFleet for good, and left Earth three days ago."

"Left Earth?! To where? Why?" Jim's voice was a whisper.  Dimly, he realized that was the same day he had drowned. The same day he had fought with Spock.

 

Pike had looked at him sympathetically.

He had nodded and replied, "I understand you were friends, Kirk. But, it's not unusual for cadets to leave StarFleet. We have a 30% turnover rate any given year. Everyone has their own reason, and we understand that this way of life is not for everyone. Cadet Spock was a promising young Vulcan, and I am disappointed at the loss. However, I expect you to adhere to our code of conduct, and respect Mr. Spock's privacy. Is that clear?"

Jim had been incapable of forming any coherent reply. So, he had numbly nodded and Pike had ended the transmission with a kind look.

 

 

That was a week ago. He had taken refuge in his room for these past days, refusing to go out, or talk to anyone. Mercifully, the majority of the campus was empty. Some cadets had failed the exams and left permanently. The news of Finnegan's failing and being discharged had made the rounds, even though no one had seen him since that night outside the bar. Others, who had passed, were taking the break between quarters to visit family or go on trips outside Academy.

 

And so Jim had locked himself in the safety of the four walls and battled with his demons. Some days he forgot to brush teeth or shower or eat. Bones visited him daily, checked his vitals, restocked his food supply, and watched him with eyes full of concern and sympathy. The doctor seemed to have aged seven years in seven days. But the doctor had been firm, that if Jim was still having trouble coping past a week, Bones would intervene medically.

 

Today his grace period ended.

Jim knew what he had to do. He had been on this slippery slope before. So, he took a piece of paper and concentrated on listing all the things he needed to get done that day. He had not needed a to-do list since he had been fourteen.

 

Then, he took another piece of paper and jotted down the basic things a man needed to do - to survive. Things like brush teeth, shower, shave, run, eat, sleep and so on. He stuck the paper on his bathroom mirror - it would be his savior in days to come. He realized he had not looked at himself in the mirror since that evening, when he had fussed on his hair. Now, he forced himself to look. The face that stared back had sunken cheeks, coarse stubble and dry cracked lips. But it was the eyes. They were dead.

 

Jim turned his back on the stranger looking back at him from the mirror. This was not the first time he had faced loss. He had lost in some form or another, his parents, friends, brother, in the past. He had survived in spite of all that. It didn't seem possible he was going to be able to survive this one. But, he was going to try, nevertheless.

 

Jim focused on cleaning himself up. He showered and shaved. Then, he dressed in his running gear and with wooden legs exited his building. He had to resume his routine he knew; else he would sink deeper and deeper.

 

He attempted to start jogging but his body felt like it was made of lead. It was hard to imagine he had ever run, with this impossible weight that he felt pressing on him, dragging him down. So he told himself, _Walk if you can't run. Crawl, if you can't walk. But, move!_ And he walked.

Past the groundskeeper who nodded at him, but Jim couldn't offer a smile back anymore.

Past the paths leading to the library where he had spent so many study sessions.

Past the corner, behind which lay a tiny garden with roses.

Past every brick, every pebble, every tree that reminded him of a name his mind refused to mention.

Past the very air, earth, and sky that reminded him of long walks, of stolen glances, of moonlit nights, of lightly touching shoulders, of quiet unspoken dreams.

 

He walked till he reached the point where the academy grounds ended, and the trail he had taken so many times, started. His steps faltered here. It was the spot where he had fallen months ago, and had been carried in strong arms to safety. He tried to keep going, but after few minutes, his heart shattered into a million pieces. He sunk to his knees on the dirt and clutched his stomach. The trees which lined the narrow path, and which had been a silent witness to a friendship which had blossomed under them, swayed in the morning cool breeze above him. He gasped for air. The pain was too much. Tears ran down Jim's face.

 

The birds chirped all around him, welcoming the morning. And Jim wept.  For everything that could have been, for everything that had been, and would never again be. Over and over, his mind chanted the plea - _Please, come back to me. Please. I'm sorry. Don't punish me like this._

He looked up at the sky, trying to find a distant desert planet, and his face twisted into a silent scream. His north star was missing. How would he ever find his bearings now?

He was all alone again. Everyone always turned his back on him, at the end.

 

He felt the front of his shirt become wet. Sobs racked his body. Finally, the tears ran out, and he was left dry heaving. Slowly, agonizing second by second, he pulled himself back. Then, he stood up and turned to walk back towards his room.

 

This would do for today.

Tomorrow, he will try again to run. To find his way to living.

And the day after.

And after.

He would keep trying.

He _had_ to keep trying. If he stopped, he knew, he would drown this time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	32. No escape

They all stood in a humongous hangar with a huge dome roof. It was so gargantuan, that Jim couldn't see the whole of it from where he was standing. Large saucer shaped structures were stationed evenly all over, and next to each stood a cluster of cadets. Jim was in one such group. Group 17.

 

Jim looked around. He saw a few familiar faces. Nathan was there. A few others of his friends. Most of others though, he knew only by face, having seen them on the campus, but not by name. There was a palpable tension in the air, as all of them fidgeted nervously. The murmur among the cadets came to a stop, when an officer strode towards them. He was holding a PADD in front of him. The man looked few years older than Jim, a friendly face, blue eyes, and blond hair.

 

"Good morning Cadets!” His loud voice boomed.

"I am Lt. Benjamin Finney. You can call me Ben. I will do my best to remember each of your names, but do me a favor and remind if I mess up, okay?"

 

 The group exhaled, and some smiled back.

Officer Finney continued, "So, today we begin your first space simulation. This is what you signed up for, right? Not all the boring theory!" Some chuckled.

Jim liked the officer. He had dissolved the tension among his peers in just a few seconds. Jim would have done the same thing, he reflected.

 

"The way this works is, we divide the entire first year, into groups of 50. Each group has one cadet from command track who will be your captain, and one each chief of medical, engineering, security, and so on. The rest of you will make up the crew, which is comprised of cadets assigned to various departments. We try to simulate a real crew to the extent we can. That huge structure you see behind you is a replica of a Starship. She is one tenth the size of a real one. But, inside, everything is laid out, just as you would find in real space Starships. Your task is to survive for the next 6 weeks. Any questions so far?"

 

No one spoke. Now that the initial apprehension had died, Jim could see others were as excited as he was.

 

Officer Finney continued, "Good. You'll report here like today, every morning at 0600 hours. You'll be inside that ship for the whole day, every day, leaving only at night to go to your quarters. By the time you will be in second year, this exercise will require you to spend the entirety of the six to eight weeks inside, but since this is your first time, we let you leave the ship each night." A low murmur ran through the crowd. Jim wished he could stay back each night; he had no desire to go back to his room.

 

Officer Finney swept his hand in the air in a wide arc, and continued, "This hangar will be closed once this briefing is over. Using 4D simulators, we will recreate space right here for you. So, when you look outside from your ship, you will see darkness dotted with stars, hour after hour, day after day, just as it will be in real life, later. You'll feel the thrum running through the floors; you will experience turbulence and physical effects, all that jazz."

 

Finney touched his PADD and tapped a few times, then looked up back at them. "I just sent your assignments to each of your PADDs. You also have my direct number in there. You can reach me anytime. I am rooting for you, Group 17, let's show them how it's done!"

 

Jim's lips transformed into a small smile after many days. He was genuinely enthused. And he really liked Officer Finney.

 

Finney looked at Jim, as if on cue, and motioned Jim to come stand next to him.

 

The young officer shook Jim's hand and patted his shoulder in a friendly way. "This is your cadet from command track for the group, James Kirk. For next six weeks, all of your lives and wellbeing are his responsibility. In turn, he will expect 100% of your loyalty. The success of a ship depends entirely on how well the crew works together. You will address him as “Captain.” Just like you will address the rest of your crew by their assigned role."

 

Officer Finney proceeded to introduce each cadet to the rest of the group.

One by one, they all climbed aboard their training ship, which was simply called "17". Jim was the last to go in. Finney shook his hand once more at the door. His parting words were, "She is yours. We will simulate conditions which will require you to make tough decisions. Remember to always put your crew and ship first. I have your back, Kirk. Good luck!"

       

Finney left. Jim stood on the threshold to the ship, and glanced around. The other training ships were similarly being boarded, most had already closed their hatches. The floor of the hangar was empty; row after row of saucers stood humming. The lighting which had been bright earlier, was dimming, and complete silence spread around.

 

Jim stepped inside, and turned to his head of security.

"Ready?" Jim asked, remembering to smile.

"Yes, Captain!"

"Close her up." Jim replied. He turned and walked down the long narrow corridor. The excitement in the air, as each cadet discovered their departments, was hard to ignore. Jim found himself smiling too, and many of his fellow trainees met his eyes, as he walked through the corridors.

 

Eventually , he reached the bridge. The rest of his crew was already positioned at their respective stations, exploring their controls. Jim went around and shook hands with each of them, and exchanged a few words. Nathan, he already knew of course, was his First Officer. His helmsman was a cadet named Otomo, who also doubled as a navigator. His Chief of Engineering was Ruth's friend, Aretta. Nathan doubled as his communications officer as well. Jim found each of them calm, cool and collected.

 

Finally, he went and sat down in the chair at the center. The simulation didn't require docking procedures - those were considered advanced skills. So, their "mission" began right in the middle of space. Jim reviewed his mission briefing. They were to proceed to a nebula and collect readings and then head back. _Simple enough,_ Jim thought.

 

He cleared his throat and began his first stint as a Captain.

"How long to our destination, Mr. Otomo?"

Otomo consulted his screen, and said, "Ummm...Hold on, Captain!"

For next 5 minutes, Otomo muttered continuously under his breath. Finally, he replied, "Five days."

 

Jim thanked him. _What were they supposed to do for 5 days?_

He soon found out there was a ton of housekeeping which went into running a self-contained city - which was what a spaceship was. There were continuous reports to file, sign and approve.

 

For the next few hours though, his principal task turned out to be assuaging nervous trainees. He was constantly called upon, from various sections of the ship. Every time, the problem was that the crew member either couldn't remember what they had learned in class, or they were so anxious that they were having trouble doing their job. Jim spoke to each in a soothing, firm voice and validated their strengths. He was relieved to see that they all responded to him, and his words and demeanor were effective in calming their nerves.

 

Jim, in turn, found that he really liked to be the person responsible for everyone else. He liked having the weight on his shoulders - it didn't stress him, rather, he felt honored. What Bones' hypos couldn't do for his mental state, this space simulation instead did. Command was indeed his destiny, and if he ever needed affirmation, this was it. Broken inside as he was, Jim could feel the life return to his blood as he walked around the ship, touching the smooth walls.

 

By the time his crew had finally settled down, evening had rolled in. Jim had made so many rounds around the ship that he now knew everyone by first name. At 1945 hours, a chime sounded all over the vessel and the lights blinked twice. Their cue to wrap things up. Jim left the bridge and walked calmly but with a determined gait towards the exit.

 

At 2000 hours sharp, the huge hatch slowly slid open. As each of his crew climbed down the short flight of stairs, Jim greeted them by name, and bid each goodnight. When Nathan and he were the only ones left, they both went back inside the ship, into a briefing room. Together, they filled out brief performance reports for each crew member. They were required do this each day.

 

"That was one of the best days of my life, man!" Nathan was pumped up.

Jim replied, "I know. Good night, Nate, see you tomorrow."

They parted ways outside the hangar. Nathan hurried away.

 

Left alone, having nothing else to do, Jim's energy and mood dropped. It had become impossible for his mind not to stray, whenever he was not actively engaged in the moment. He looked around. Everyone seemed to move with a purpose except him. The hundreds of first years were soon gone from the hangar site.

 

Jim walked slowly, willing his legs to move, and fighting the urge to let his head hang down. But once inside his room, his shoulders slumped. The walls seemed to cave in on him. He had been so busy the entire day, that there had been no time to think. The whole experience and surrounding had been new. He craved new. Everything old and familiar felt empty without Spock. And nothing felt more depressing than this damn room.

 

He went to his "survival" list, stuck on the bathroom mirror.

Jim read through the list and realized he had forgotten to eat. All day.

 

Appetite was the second victim, after sleep, with which he was struggling to bring back to normalcy. He was mildly surprised at himself. Hunger and starvation usually triggered intense reactions in him. In times of stress, no matter what, he had always found a way to eat. In the last few days though, Jim had lost all appetite.

 

Well, he had to eat. He was glad to leave his room, and soon found himself in the cafeteria. It was buzzing with first year cadets. Excited voices rose from every corner as stories were being exchanged. Jim went to the synthesizers and chose the first item his fingers landed on. He didn't care what he ate. He just needed to eat to survive.

 

Once the food was on the tray in his hands, he hesitated. His group was seated at a table on the other side. They had not yet spotted him. But the general air of happiness all around him was too much. Jim put the tray back, bagged his dinner, and escaped the cafeteria. Nathan could tell the others everything anyways, since they were in the same group. Jim had no energy to face anyone now.

 

His feet took him where his heart really wanted to go. Alone, in the rose garden, Jim sat on the bench and ate his dinner quietly. He found solitude with the darkness outside - the vast black sky above him seemed to reflect the emptiness inside him.

 

Jim had put all his energy in work today. He knew he had to keep himself occupied. So he had. And again tomorrow he would repeat the cycle. But the nights had become his enemy.

 

Dinner was over in ten minutes. Just as he had feared, the tentacles of grief started gripping him everywhere. His mind refused to let him rest. Image after image, thoughts after thoughts, assaulted him - taunting him. Deep brown eyes stared back at him - from across the abyss in his mind when he closed his eyes, and across the vast space around him when his eyes were open. There was no escape.

 

The ache deepened and like a thorn twisted in his heart. It had been festering. Now, he was hurting so much, he questioned if living was worth this torture. The thought of turning to something which would numb him had occurred to him in the past few days. He could get drunk or get high and tune out this hell fire.

 

But, he hadn't even touched a drink. Not because he was a superhuman. No, because this was his only connection to what he had lost. Taking away his pain would also take away the memories of Spock. And that was all he had now - just memories. There was not even a single picture of them together. He had not known their time would be so short. Had he known, he would have documented every precious second he had spent with Spock. But now, it was too late and it was only in his mind, that any proof remained.

 

To the rest of the world, Spock's absence was just another Starfleet statistic. There had been shock at first, as the news had slowly spread. Spock had won several hearts. All his students in various classes. The engineering department where Spock had been leading several experiments. And then there were Jim's circle of friends, who had grown close to Spock after that evening when he had taken him to their sparring session. They all had reminisced in Jim’s presence the departure of their Vulcan friend.

 

But no one had a clue how much Jim's life had been changed. No one knew what he had gained and lost. And so, Jim _needed_ his pain. It was his only way to hold on to Spock.

 

Slowly he stood up. He was physically exhausted. But sleep would elude him, he knew. If he was to perform his duties tomorrow, he couldn't allow another of the sleepless nights he had been experiencing lately.

 

Jim took out his communicator and typed in a message to Bones.

"Hey Bones. I changed my mind. I will need those sleeping pills after all."

Without waiting for a reply, Jim started walking towards the med building. A reply soon buzzed.

"I am in my lab. Come on over."

 

Jim would have avoided facing the doctor if he could. But he knew Bones wouldn't just hand him the pills like that, either.

 

He found Bones in his lab. Ruth was there, too. Jim had yet to find an opportunity to speak to her. Their eyes met, and she looked away, dropping her gaze to the experiment she was busy at. Jim felt uneasy.

 

Bones came over to Jim, and started examining him with a tricorder. Jim wondered if Bones ever actually asked anyone’s permission to do that. He considered it his birthright to scan anyone, anytime, he wished to.

"How was the first day?" The doctor asked casually, while leading Jim to a corner of the lab, which was outfitted with various instruments. Jim went through the motions, as Bones weighed him, took his vitals and ran some other checks, prodding and poking Jim.

"It was a good one. Interesting stuff." Jim injected as much enthusiasm in his voice he could.

Bones was going over the data he had collected from Jim's checkup. He scowled and looked up.

"You have lost another pound. That's five pounds since the accident." 

 

His friend put a hand on Jim's shoulder and dropped the habitual frown he wore. Bones looked at Jim with a tender expression which conveyed the depth of the doctor’s true feelings for Jim.

"It's normal, you know, if you are experiencing difficulty coping. Hell, you almost died and that mad man is still loose out there. It’s okay to be shaken up. Looks like it’s causing you to lose sleep and appetite. But I want to keep an eye on your PTSD returning and turning into a chronic one. If you are still struggling after few more weeks, I want to know, okay?" His tone was unusually gentle.

 

Jim exhaled a breath of relief. Bones was under the impression that Jim was suffering due to Finnegan. Maybe he was. But he was glad he didn't have to explain some of his erratic behavior was due to Spock.

 

So, he replied carefully, "I am trying Bones. Now that the new quarter has started, it will help. I just need my mind occupied."

 

“I know you are trying, Jim. I know.” McCoy assessed him with scrutinizing eyes. Then, he squeezed Jim’s shoulders once, nodded and turned around.

Walking towards a door set in the opposite wall, with his back to Jim, he said, "It's harder this time around without Spock, isn't it? He was good for you. I remember that hike you took with him. It really recharged you.” The doctor put his palm on the door which led to another room next to the lab. The scanner processed his fingerprints and the door slid open. Bones disappeared into the adjoining room.

 

Jim stood motionless. Bones had so casually brought up Spock. Just like that. The name seemed to hang in the air and cut through Jim like a knife. And why did Bones have to bring up the hike? It was a day Jim would never forget. He was not prepared for the memory to be flung at him like this. Sharp pain shot through him his chest. Jim stumbled onto the nearest lab table and leaned in for support. _Shit! He couldn't let Bones see him like this._

 He closed his eyes and struggled to get oxygen into his lungs.

 

A soft hand touched his forearm. Confused, Jim looked up, and then remembered with horror, that he wasn't alone! He had forgotten about Ruth being in the lab.

Ruth spoke in a low but urgent voice, "What's wrong?"

Jim shook his head side to side, unable to speak, still gasping.

 

She put an arm around him and led him to a bio-bed a few steps away. She made Jim lie down and started preparing a hypo. But Jim tried to wave her away.

Finally able to breathe somewhat easily, he panted apologetically, "I’m sorry. It's just - it's nothing to be concerned of. Please."

Ruth wasn't persuaded. "Jim, that almost looked like a heart attack to me." Then, she picked up the tricorder Bones was using earlier and looked at it. "But you have no coronary disease. Your cholesterol, sugar, everything looks completely normal."

"See? I told ya, it's nothing. Please don't tell Bones. He’s already going crazy." Jim implored, his breathing returning to normal.

 

Just then, Bones emerged from the room and closed the door back behind him. Jim jumped down from the bio-bed before Bones could see.

He whispered to Ruth, "Please?"

She looked torn for a moment, then nodded slightly. In a barely audible voice, she replied, "Only if you promise to come back, for me to check some more."

Jim let his eyes gave her his acquiescence.

 

She stepped away from him, and inconspicuously moved back to her experiment just as Bones crossed the lab and approached Jim.

"Here, three pills for three nights. After three days, I want to see you again."

 

Jim muttered his thanks and gave a friendly pat on his boney shoulders.

 

Bones glanced around and then said, "Actually I’m done here. How do you feel about coming over for tonight and sleeping over at my apartment?"

 

Jim was taken aback.

 

"Ummm -"

"I have a spare bedroom, remember? Family accommodations come with those. But I got no family, and the whole place is empty.”

"Oh, okay. Thanks, I really appreciate the offer." Jim was genuinely relieved. Anything to get him out of his room.

 

"Since when did you become so formal?” Bones raised an eyebrow. He was putting away his tools as he spoke when he seemed to remember Ruth. He pointed a finger at her, "You’re done too." 

Ruth opened her mouth, seeming to protest.

 

"Shhh!"  Bones admonished her. “I don't want to hear anything. You only got discharged yesterday, and then you had a full day today cooped up in those space saucers. Why do you think they let you come out of those? To rest! Not to slave over some goddamn experiments.”

 

Bones turned to Jim and then back to Ruth and waved an angry finger at both of them.

“Seriously, the both of you, what's wrong with you youngsters? You almost die, and I have a heart attack, trying to save your asses, and now all you want to do is kill yourself again? By overworking? You all think I do this for fun? Huh?"

 

Ruth smiled for the first time. A smile escaped Jim’s lips - without trying this time. Both of them looked at each other briefly, feeling united in their victimhood against Bones' rant.                            

 

Quietly, she slid out of her lab coat and then passed by them going out the door. "Good night sir, good night Jim." She held Jim's eyes a fraction of a second longer, seeming to remind him of his earlier promise. He nodded slightly at her, immensely grateful for her silence – which was on top of saving his life, which he had yet to thank her for.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character reference, "Benjamin Finney", TOS episode, "Court Martial".
> 
>  


	33. Love and Friendship

Jim's life was beginning to follow a pattern. Routine was his best friend nowadays. He was infinitely grateful to have the training and its rigidity thrust upon him, which helped him maintain a steady sleep and work schedule.

 

During daytime, the sixteen hours easily flew by in training. Inside the ship, the ship’s morning and night were indicated by the lighting, to keep up with the human circadian rhythms. The mission kept him so busy; there was hardly a moment to sit down. There was something going wrong every day - a coolant leak or a synthesizer malfunction or a loss in air pressure and so on. Nothing major, but it soon started becoming clear which of them were cut out for this job. Most of them kept their cool, were able to think on their feet, and exercised innate resourcefulness to solve issues. There were a few though, that despite excellent performance in the exams, Jim had to literally babysit.

 

Being a command track cadet, Jim was taking more courses than the average trainee. The Captain had to be a jack of all trades person. He had to be familiar enough with every system on a starship to be able to help, rather than hinder, repairs.

 

However, he was surprised to realize, often times, he knew more about a subject than the particular cadet who was supposedly the subject matter expert. Jim felt bad filling their performance reports. Should he lower _his_ standards, or make _them_ match up to his? At what point was he supposed to support someone who was struggling, vs. rebuking.

 

In the evenings, he had his dinner alone in the rose garden. Then, a quick shower in his room. The sleeping medicine pills were helping. Bones would drop by sometimes late at night, for a quick checkup, but his friend seemed unusually preoccupied lately. Jim guessed it was the marriage thing. Both Jim and Bones took comfort in the other man's silent companionship.

 

 

The first week of the quarter thus went by, Jim managing to function without falling apart. November ambled along, and Jim focused on living one day at a time, one moment at a time. Thinking too far in the future or about the past was forbidden - both dead ends. And being alone, by himself, was even more deadly. He could not tolerate the usual company though. He had always been a people person, but small talk grated on his nerves nowadays.

 

Sunday morning arrived and Jim had no idea what to do with himself. So, he decided this was the perfect time to start hitting the campus gym. It was a state of the art facility, and Jim was glad he had thought of it. He made up his mind to visit it regularly, henceforth. He had abandoned his morning runs.

 

He lifted weights for an hour and spent another hour in the pool – his new cardio. He took a long shower. Finally, he ran out of things to do, and reluctantly left the recreation building. He went over to Bones' lab, hoping to catch him.

 

His friend was nowhere to be seen. Instead, Ruth was glued as usual to her apparatus. He wondered if she lived in the lab itself. On seeing Jim, she managed an impressive imitation of Bones' scowl.

 

"I thought we had an agreement?" She crossed her arms accusingly.

"Good morning to you, too." Jim said and slid into a chair.

She didn't smile but instead looked pointedly at the bio-bed, tucked in the corner and surrounded on two sides by wall and the third side was flanked by various cool looking gadgets.

 

Jim sighed and got up. "Do you guys get special training in med track on how _not_ to have bedside manners?"

"We reserve the manners, for those patients who deserve them. It's been a week, and you didn't come back." She gently pushed down on his shoulders to make him lie down.

"It's been a busy week," Jim tried.

"I am going through the same training as you. You can fool Dr. McCoy, not me." She clipped something on his index finger and focused on a monitor above his head.

"You'll make a good Bones, you know."

Ruth looked at him, and then back at the monitors.

"Thank you," she replied proudly.

 

Jim had to chuckle at that.

 

Despite her frosty demeanor, she gave him a tiny smile. Jim noticed she had one of the sweetest smiles he had ever seen.

 

 

"Did you have another episode after that one?" She was back to her professional self.

Jim debated what to tell her. 

"I honestly feel fine. You told me yourself, all my readings look normal. I am obviously doing good, else I wouldn't be able to handle the training."

"That's not what I asked." Ruth was unaffected by Jim's attempt.

"Okay. I have had a few of those. But I am fine." Jim sat up on the bio-bed.

"You're not going anywhere. Since when have you been experiencing these?" She crossed her arms again and her eyebrows were bunched up.

"Since the day I got discharged." She was physically blocking his way out of the bio-bed. So he looked away.

 

Ruth didn't reply immediately. The silence between them made Jim feel angry, since she was clearly waiting for him to spill more.

"Look, I know I owe you my life. And I've been meaning to say thank you. And also, thank you for this - your concern, but I don't really want to talk about it."

 

"You owe me nada. I did what any medical personnel would do. I just happened to be at the right place at the right time." Her tone was sharp.

"Well, thank you anyways." Jim had enough. He pushed her away, and hopped down from the bio-bed.

 

"It was all for nothing, apparently." Ruth put back the instruments she had pulled out. Her voice was cold.

 

"What's your problem?" Jim whirled around and faced her, feeling irritated.

"I don't have a problem. I made a factual observation."

"Really? And how many facts do you have? You know _nothing_ about me." He stood inches away from her, his hands balled into fists.

"I don't have to. I am a trained psychologist," she replied equally defiantly.

"Then you are a lousy one." Jim spat out.

"No, I am pretty good actually. In fact, your reaction proves it."

"Oh yeah? Please, enlighten me." Jim spread his hands out in an exaggeratedly polite fashion.

 

"You're losing weight, because you are not eating enough. You're also not sleeping. Both of these are out of character for you. You spend every waking minute trying to keep yourself busy. Today being the first day off, you came running to find Dr. McCoy, because left alone, the pain is unbearable. And you don't want to tell Dr. McCoy about your episodes because all this is not related to the attack."

 

Jim glared at her.

Then, she exhaled, and added, "You're grieving him, Jim."

 

Jim’s eyes went wide and he stared open mouthed, as if she had sucker punched him. Ruth's expression changed from anger, to that of pain in an instant.

"I’m sorry. That was completely unprofessional of me. I didn't mean to shout at you. You're right, I am lousy. Extremely."

 

Jim was still reeling.

"How did you know?" He whispered.

Then horrified, he asked, "Am I that transparent?"

 

Ruth shook her head. "No. Not at all. You're doing amazing."

 

Jim suddenly felt tired. He went back to the bio-bed and plopped down. He ran a hand through his hair and said, "I'm sorry too, Ruth. That was uncalled for. I took out my frustration on you."

"Can we call it a truce then?" She smiled at him.

 

He made an effort, smiled back and nodded.

"You didn't tell me. So, how did you know?"

 

"Can't you just accept that I am that good? I did beat you in every psychology related subject." She spoke in a slightly playful voice, clearly making an effort not to upset him again.

 

Jim agreed, "Can't argue with that."

 

Ruth went and stood next to him. She put a hand on his shoulder and said, "Jim, these episodes you're having, they can be dangerous. It's not coronary disease, which was what I was worried about. The readings I took show that you have an enlarged and unusual movement of the lower left ventricle. Combined with your recent history of trauma, and what I know about you, it looks like you have Takotsubo Cardiomyopathy."

 

This was news to Jim. He felt a little guilty for shouting at her.

"I am not sure what that is. Am I sick?" He asked.

"Not exactly. It's a temporary condition which produces symptoms like a heart attack, hence you couldn't breathe and probably felt acute chest pain. It's extremely rare in young men of your age."

Jim nodded. "What's causing it then?"

 

Ruth looked at him with eyes full of emotion. "It's a reaction to an intense psychological trauma. I mean it Jim, when I say you are grieving him. In layman terms, the condition is called broken heart syndrome. His departure was the shock that must have triggered it. Now, every time you are reminded of him, your heart is literally, shutting down in pain." Tears pooled in her eyes.

 

Jim sucked in a breath, and looked away. It took him several minutes to process her words. She stood quietly by his side, gently rubbing his shoulder while he fought with his emotions.

Unable to meet her eyes, he asked in a gruff voice, "Will it ever go away?"

"The pain? Yes. It has a high recovery rate. Most people recover within weeks or a month. Social support is the key. The actual feelings and memories, those depend on each person. That may take years."

 

Jim took a deep breath. "I don't really want Bones or anyone else to know about this."

"I understand, Jim. I am not telling anyone either, of course."

 

He tried to swallow the lump which had lodged in his throat.

Ruth spoke again. "I know you came looking for Dr. McCoy. He left a message for you that he is gone to visit his family for the weekend. Something about a sudden health problem with his Dad."

 

Jim nodded and placed his own hand on hers which was still on his shoulder. He squeezed it once before stepping off the bio-bed. Her hand fell away.

 

"Thanks, Ruth. Both Bones and you, you guys have done so much for me. I'll let you go back to your work now." He tried to smile.

 

Ruth hesitated for several seconds and then asked, "What are your plans, can I ask?"

 

"I will think of something."

"Well, my best friend is not in a mood to do anything. Do you, umm, want to spend the day with me?"

Jim could see it was taking her some effort to ask this question. He guessed she didn't usually offer her company so easily.

"I owe you that much for saving my life." He smiled, trying to ease her discomfort. And truth be told, she was the only other person besides Bones he didn't mind being with.

 

She mumbled about him owing nothing, but smiled and walked towards her experiment.

Jim asked, "Did you have any plans?"

 

Ruth started closing down her setup, putting away the containers.

"Actually, I was thinking of visiting the botanical gardens. Have you ever been there? I hear they have amazing specimens from all over the galaxy, and some rare local ones dating centuries back."

"No, I haven't. And that sounds really interesting. I am on board." He did love flowers.

 

Her equipment stowed away, she took off her lab coat. Underneath she was dressed in a soft cream sweater and black jeans. For the first time, Jim noticed her hair, which was piled up in a messy bun on top of her head. She wore no make-up, or at least he couldn't make out any. She was naturally pretty, and carried herself with a simple dignity.

 

They left the lab together. On his way out, he asked, "What's wrong with Aretta? She has been one of the top performers in my crew."

She glanced at him, and then replied cautiously, "You’re not the only one. Though hers is a less severe case. She had a crush on him."

"Who? Spock?" Jim asked in surprise, forgetting his own rule of not speaking that name.

She nodded and smiled up at him, "Can you blame her?"

 

 Jim's heart flooded with warmth at that comment. "No, no, I can't. I just have been living under a rock, apparently."

"I am sure there are others, too. He was universally admired." Ruth replied.

"You seem to have a talent in surrounding yourself with the likes of us, though." Jim glanced at her, with a lopsided smile.

 

They were outside the med building. It looked like a clear day, no clouds as far as Jim could see. She chuckled at his comment, and her eyes twinkled in a way Jim had never seen before.

 

Hearing her talk about Spock in such loving tones, made Jim feel like he was finally being understood. It made him happy to know there were others who had fallen for Spock. In Jim's eyes, Spock was perfect, but to know that his sentiments were shared by others, suddenly made him feel like part of a community. _Spock fan club._

"I wouldn't have guessed about Aretta. She is amazing." Jim thought about the past week, and then the fact that Aretta had been the one to save Ruth, and indirectly him.

"So are you. You both are so strong." Ruth's eyes were searching for a hovercraft they could catch.

_"_ Hovercraft or underground train?" She asked.

 

The end of Golden Gate Bridge was a hub for hovercrafts. "We should find a hover easily," Jim replied.

Sure enough, they soon spotted one and boarded it.

 

The botanical garden was set on sprawling grounds, with several huge greenhouse domes scattered around, each devoted to recreating the eco system of a different planet.

 

Jim had always been fond of flowers. Plants, not so much. But the sheer variety boggled his mind. They stood at one of the many interactive map consoles at the entrance, touching the points of interest each wanted to explore. The facility was too large to cover in a single day. The machine plotted their itinerary, as per their selections. Soon, they had a custom map printed in their hands.

 

It was a perfect day for an outdoor trip. Pleasantly sunny and slightly breezy. Just a hint of cold in the air. They strolled through the various gardens. A lot of the outdoor flora and fauna was from different parts of Earth but many were also from distant class M planets. They read the accompanying display cards with interest.

 

"Jim!" Ruth grasped his sweater sleeve, and pulled him excitedly. He let himself be led while glancing at her face. He had never seen her outside the campus, and there she was always so calm and reserved.

"Look at this!" She pointed to a display of bright orange flowers.

"Zinnia?" Jim asked, smiling at her child like enthusiasm.

"Not just any Zinnia, Jim! This was the first species of flower we humans successfully grew in space. Way back in early 21st century. Can you imagine that?" Ruth whole face lit up with excitement.

 

Jim vaguely recollected having read something like that. Looking and touching the flower did feel surreal. He tried to imagine how it must have been for those early space explorers. Modern starships and space stations had entire botany departments growing vegetation and various blooming plants. It was all taken for granted.

 

He saw a little sign almost covered with leaves, which indicated that a sample potted Zinnia could be obtained at the outreach and education building in the botanical gardens.

"Wait here." Jim told Ruth.

"Why? Where are you going?"

"Just wait." Jim walked away. The building in question was just a couple minute away as per the map, but they were not planning to go that way as per their itinerary. Jim found the building easily. Inside, there were several potted varieties ready to be taken. He found the orange Zinnias and selected one.

Plant in hand, he went back and sought out Ruth, who was still bent over the Zinnia display, studying the plants.

 

"Here." He offered her the tiny plant. "A new life in exchange for giving me back mine."

 

 Ruth's eyes grew wide. She looked at the plant, then at him, and back at the pot. Her eyes suddenly misted. Taking the plant from Jim, she turned her face away, and replied softly, "Thanks." After few seconds, she added, "I hope it grows strong and tall and weathers every storm."

Jim wasn't sure anymore if she was talking about the plant.

 

They left that section of the gardens and went looking for lunch. It was afternoon and Ruth was determined to feed him.

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I present to you :-
> 
> Exhibit A – Jim in shore leave episode: https://68.media.tumblr.com/2f0646fb02cea25fee24f0d773b9b9cc/tumblr_od9mwpZslI1r09qfio1_250.gif
> 
> Exhibit B – NASA’s post about the first flower grown:  
> https://www.nasa.gov/image-feature/first-flower-grown-in-space-stations-veggie-facility/
> 
>  


	34. Command

Jim was lying on his back, legs bent, under an engineering console, covered in wires dangling from above. Aretta was beside him, in similar position.

"There! See it?" She pointed him to a small section on a chip set which was burnt to a char.

 

"Yup. Fixing this will require taking the entire subsystem offline." Jim concentrated on tucking the other wires back into their respective slots.

Aretta made a frustrating noise besides him; her hand darted down her thighs smoothing her short skirt. Jim glanced at her.

"I hate these uniforms." She spoke while concentrating on her section of wires. "I am basically exposed, lying here in this position. Fucking inconvenient."

 

Jim hadn't thought about that before. He was still thinking about it when she spoke up again.

"This is negligence, Captain. Someone wasn't careful. It had to overheat for several minutes before it reached this state."

Jim closed the panel above him and turned in the narrow space towards her. "I am going to let you deal with it, Chief. I expect a detailed report waiting for me before the next shift begins."

"Yes, Sir."

 

Jim slid out, and dusted himself as he stood up. All eyes from their respective consoles were turned towards him.

"While you all have been gawking at us, the next failure has probably occurred at one of your stations, but you were too busy neglecting your duties." His words came out more scathing than he had planned to. But, he didn't take back anything. Heads immediately snapped back and backs went straight, as each of them studied their own stations intently.

 

Jim walked out of engineering feeling frustrated with the display of incompetency.

 

On his way to the bridge, Nathan joined him, coming from the other direction.

"Nate, I want you to put in a request for optional trouser uniforms to be available to all female crewmen. Effective immediately."

Nathan was surprised, "You don't like the skirts?"

"They are not for me to like or dislike, First. I think as much of them as I think of your trousers. Which is nothing."

Nathan came to a halt staring at Jim. Then, his friend slowly turned right, continuing to wherever he had been planning to go.

 

Jim knew he was being cold. But, he found he didn't care as much.

 

It had been four weeks. And every single day they dealt with some or the other issue. Only 20% of these were intentional sabotages from the Academy. The rest were all his crew.

 

He had hardly sat down in his command chair when his armrest lighted up. He pressed the button and heard a voice report, "Captain! The power to med bay is failing!"

Jim took a deep breath and steadied himself. "Fix it." He replied in calm voice.

"Sir?"

"What part of it do you need clarification on?"

"Oh I – I..."

"What's your name?" Jim asked.

"Singh, sir. I am a nurse. I don't know anything about how to fix it." The voice blabbered on.

"Then find someone to fix it. Deal with it, Mr. Singh." Jim refused to go down and take care of the problem anymore. He was beginning to recognize his own actions were as much at fault.

"Uhhh I am not -"

"Captain, out." Jim cut him off.

 

He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees and put his head in his hands. He could sense the three crew members on bridge eyeing him. He rubbed his temples and tried to massage his headache away. It had started half-way through their shift today and was growing worse by the minute. Jim glanced at the chronometer. An hour left.

 

Jim pulled up his PADD. He was going to do something about the continuing poor performance. He scheduled 30 minute separate meetings the next week with every department head and the sub-head. He needed to first train the leaders, only then could the rest of the crew be expected to catch up. With two weeks remaining to go, he HAD to end this whole training with much better metrics.

 

By the time he had moved around the scheduling and personnel changes, the end of day chime sounded all over. Jim left his chair and went to the exit to carry out his customary good night greetings. The ones in engineering today mumbled apologies, as they passed him. Jim tried to speak the right balance of words - he didn't want to alienate his crew, but neither did he want to entirely erase his rebuke from earlier.

 

Nathan was silent as they filled out the performance reports.

"Don't gloss over any inefficiencies," Jim commented.

 

After some minutes, Nathan asked, "Kirk, is everything okay?"

"It’s ‘Captain’." Jim didn't raise his eyes.

"Right now, I am asking as a friend."

Jim was silent for a few more minutes. He finally spoke. "I don't like how we are doing. Can you imagine taking this crew to space? We won't survive take off."

 

They finished the reports.

"This is just first quarter, Kirk. Hardly anyone expects us to perform at a graduate level."

"I do. I expect us to perform our best. So far, I haven't seen anything which is beyond our limits. The tests all have been within our knowledge and skill set." They exited their ship.

"You do realize everyone is not you, right? You are the topper in all of first year. I think it's unfair to hold us all against that standard." Nathan sounded more upset than Kirk had ever heard. "In fact, I think it's unnecessary."

 

Jim chewed his lower lip.

"Are you saying you are completely okay with our performance so far?"

"No, I didn't say that. The opportunity for improvement remains in any situation. But, I do think you may be extra hard on your crew."

"Do you doubt your potential, Nate?" Jim challenged.

 

It was his friend's turn to be silent.

"What do you want?" Nathan finally asked.

"I want everyone, every single one of us, to be doing our best. That means no silly mistakes, no excuses, and not behaving like kids waiting to be told what to do."

 

Nathan, to his credit, listened carefully.

"As your First, it's my duty to make things happen for you. I will try to think of some ideas tonight."

 

Jim turned to his friend and smiled for the first time. He was proud to see his First rise to the challenge.

"I have arranged meetings on Monday, with the head of each department. Bring your ideas with you."

 

Nathan nodded, and waved him goodnight before going off towards the first years’ building. Jim proceeded to the cafeteria, deciding to get his dinner early and then go back to his room.

Saturday nights were always crazy. The strain from the entire week made cadets feel extra eager to let loose.

 

Jim was bagging his dinner as usual, when he saw Officer Finney and Bones coming towards him. He was surprised.

Finney shook his hand, and looked at Jim with a wide smile. Jim had yet to see the man in a bad mood once. He was one of those uncomplicated people, who just loved what they did, and treated everyone with equal enthusiasm.

 

Bones snatched the bag from his hands, and before Jim could protest, said "Remember dinner at my place, today?"

"Oh! Right. Sorry." Jim had forgotten his friend's invitation from earlier in the day.

"Officer, I led you to him. Please make sure you return him to me. I hardly get to see my friend, anyhow."

Finney laughed and replied, "Of course, Doctor! Of course!"

Bones left them. Jim looked at his superior expectantly.

 

"Come, take a walk with me." This surprised Jim even more, but he complied.

 

Outside under the evening sky, Finney's voice dropped. He spoke in a serious tone, "Your simulation training is being cut short."

 

Jim felt intense embarrassment. He was being fired.

"I’m sorry. I know I have let you down. I had plans to rectify the situation, sir." He spoke with a tight voice. The headache had not let up even a bit.

 

"What? No!"

"Sir, you have been extraordinarily kind to me. But, you don't have to sugar coat it. Just tell it as it is."

"I am! Kirk? Are you okay?" Finney peered at Jim. "You look a little green."

"I am fine, thank you, Sir." Jim straightened his spine, and tried to put some energy into his stance.

 

"If you say so. Well, I am not sure what are you going on about. Group 17 has been the top performer so far."

"Sir?!" Jim stopped walking.

 

Finney looked puzzled.

"Yes, Kirk. Why are you so surprised? Surely, you know how hard you have worked, and made your crew work just as hard."

 

"The other ships are underperforming _us_?" Jim was still in shock.

"They are all performing average. Just as we expect, and have been observing for years. Your team though, has been exceptional. Every emergency situation has been handled within the same day, instead of taking days. The Academy is most impressed, Kirk. And your crew is going to be proud, once they realize what they’ve accomplished."

 

They resumed walking. Jim's head was full of conflicting thoughts.

 

"But that's not why I am here. You will get the official performance report at end of the quarter."

"Oh, right, thank you, Sir. So, why am I being let off, then?"

 

"You are being sent on a mission." His supervisor said.

"I am?" This conversation kept springing surprises. "Where to, Sir?" Jim asked.

 

"You have been chosen to be part of the special delegation leaving Earth for the historic peace treaty meeting." Finney extracted a small rectangular miniPADD from his pocket and tapped on it a few times.

He passed it to Kirk. "Your official orders."

 

Jim read the briefing.

 

SUBJ/INDETERMINATE TEMPORARY DUTY (ITDY)  
ORDERS /  
     KIRK JAMES TIBERIOUS SC937-0176CEC//

RMKS/  
      OFFICIAL INDETERMINATE TEMPORARY DUTY ORDERS FOR  
      AXANAR MISSION DELEGATION  
  
ITINERARY (COMMAND, UIC):  FOR THE INTERMEDIATE ACTIVITIES ON OR ABOUT: 15 DEC 2252  
REPORT NLT 0730 ON 14 DEC TO CMDR BAILEY.  


Jim handed the miniPADD back. "I wasn't expecting that."

 

 

Finney stopped and turned to Kirk, offering his hand.

"Wish you the very best. It's been a pleasure working with you. I hope to work with you again, when you are back."

 

Jim struggled for words, feeling overwhelmed. "I am - I don't know how to thank you. You have caught me not at my best. Really, you've been my rock this past one month.” He added as an afterthought, “Sir."

 

"Call me Ben. I am no longer officially your supervisor. You have been released."  Ben smiled.

"I hope to see you again too, Ben. You are a good officer. We need more like you." Jim said earnestly.

 

Finney thumped Jim's back with enough force to cause a mild concussion had it been his head.

"It's not an everyday occurrence you know. First years don't go into space. You're the one to watch out for. You'll go far, Kirk. Remember my words. Good night, and good luck, again."

 

Finney turned around and left. Jim stood under the December sky, lost in his own thoughts.

 

His comm chirped. It was Bones.

"Are you already there?"

"No, about to start."

"I will meet you by the cafe. Had to run to the lab. Wait for me."

"Okay."

 

Jim considered going back to his room to change, but then dropped the idea. It was too much of a detour, and the uniform was fine. But more importantly, the headache had developed into a full blown throbbing nuisance. His head hurt, his heart hurt, his whole body seemed to hurt. He was reminded of the sudden headaches he had started to get when he had returned from Mendocino. They had appeared unexpectedly, and then gone away.

Jim was overcome with an acute sense of dread he couldn't explain.

 

Bones soon appeared on the path, and they fell in step as the doctor led Jim towards the married officers’ quarters. Jim had been there once, a month back, on a night he was at his lowest. Jim didn't want to dwell on that.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

 

"It's over." Bones broke the silence.

"What?" Jim's attention was jolted to the present by Bones' flat voice and crytpic words.

"My marriage. Today, everything officially ended. She is legally no more Mrs. McCoy."

 

Jim cursed himself for being so caught up in his own drama. His friend was grieving, and what was he doing to help? Absolutely nothing! Being a burden on the young doctor, in fact. He steeled himself and focused all his mental faculties on the man who had been become a brother to him. More than a real brother, in fact.

 

"I am so sorry, Bones." Jim reached out and laid a gentle hand on his lanky friend. He could feel the bones protruding beneath the fabric. _Was Bones losing weight, too? Who was looking after him? Some friend you are, Jim!_

"How have you been holding up?" Jim asked, feeling wide awake.

 

McCoy let out a heavy sigh.

"I dunno. I am so done, Jim. This whole saga has sucked the life out of me. Dammit man, it hurts so bad. Tonight just seems especially hard. That's why I asked you to come over. I just didn't want to feel like I’m the only man alive on this Godforsaken planet."

 

Bones needed _him_ tonight? His friend actually sought out _his_ miserable company? This revelation made Jim feel a bit better. If anyone could understand Bones' loneliness right now, it was definitely Jim. Well, at least his own suffering had some use - he was an excellent company to his friend.

 

Bones turned into his building's entrance. Jim noticed the children's playground nestled between the buildings. Lights shone out from several windows, around Bones' apartment. Jim could even hear a baby wailing from somewhere.

_Family._

 

The word reverberated inside his head.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       

 


	35. Home

 

Bones led him to the fifth floor and inside a two bedroom apartment. Compared to Jim's room, it was palatial. There was a kitchen, a separate dining area, and he could spot a balcony outside through the glass doors. It was like stepping into a different world.

Bones went straight to the kitchen and started looking for something.

"Drink?" The doctor came back with a bottle in his hand and two glasses.

 

Jim was sorely tempted. Just a glass would be so soothing. He shook his head slowly left to right and back.

McCoy raised an eye brow at that.

 

"If I start, I am afraid I won't stop." Jim replied. Jim didn't have to explain to the doctor, he was sure, the statistics on PTSD victims and substance abuse. He had no desire to end up as a dot on a graph. Jim was many things right now, but he wasn't suicidal, nor was he self-destructive.

 

Bones looked at him with eyes that conveyed equal measures respect and surprise at Jim's self-awareness. He poured himself a glass, took a sip and sighed deeply.

 

"Well, you're a stronger man than I am, Jim. Would'ya believe when I was your age, I didn't touch this thing?" Holding up his glass, Bones seemed to study the liquid for a moment. "I met her when I was 19, like you. Fell heads over heels in love."

 

Jim wandered around the apartment, looking at the various pictures hanging on the walls, letting his friend vent. He had been too distraught last time to notice anything.

 

McCoy went inside the kitchen and returned with a glass for Jim. "Home made iced tea," he offered.

 

The doctor settled into a stuffed chair, which showed patterns of being overused by the sole occupant of the apartment. He drank some more and his voice took on a nostalgic tone. "You never think then, that things could end. It's all for forever. The future looks so bright you get sucked into it. I was a med student, and let me tell ya, those years were crazy. I was in classes and shadowing rounds all day. I would meet her in the evenings and then study all night. Boy, did I have energy to carry on like that."

 

Jim examined a picture of what looked like Bones' grandparents. There was a canvas with a family tree next to it. Apparently, the McCoys went a long time back.

 

He turned around from where he was standing and said, "You still have energy, Bones. You are in your twenties, don't talk like you are an old man."

 

"Hmph. It sure doesn't feel like youth. Love does that to you, kid." Bones chewed out the words.

 

Jim didn't know what to say to that, but then he figured, his friend wasn't really looking for answers. So, he just grunted sympathetically.

 

"You build up these dreams, these grand schemes, and you think you've got it all covered. Then, poof. It's all over. You are left wondering what the heck were you thinking."

 

Jim kept his face turned towards the picture, afraid his expression might reveal something. "Do you think maybe getting away from all this will help?" It hurt to see his friend like this. Jim noticed the ring was still on his finger. He couldn't blame Bones for hanging onto that.

 

Bones snorted. "Why do you think I was so eager to sign up for Dramia II?"

 

"That's why?" Jim was surprised.

"Partly, yeah. I am not really cut out for space, honestly. I don't trust all that technology. Man is not supposed be dissolving into nothing, and then reappearing again. Pretty sure it messes up _something._ But, when you have screwed up your life majorly and you're all of 25, even those machines can't hold you back from escaping."

"You mean transporter technology?" Jim asked, distracted and amused by this illogical fear of his friend. "It's been around for years, Bones. That's like saying you don't trust synthesizers."

 

"Well, may be those shouldn't be trusted either." The doctor looked angrily at Jim, as if he was to be personally held responsible.

 

McCoy poured himself another glass, got up and came to stand next to Jim.

 

Jim looked at his friend warmly. Who knew underneath the brilliant mind, Bones could be anachronistic at times.

"Now you're really talking like an old man. A very, very, old man," he chided gently.

 

Bones rolled his eyes and looked up at the ceiling. "I am a simple country boy. I don't know what I am going to do out there." He waved his hand in the imaginary direction to outer space. "But, yeah it's away from it all at least."

Then, the doctor sharply looked at Jim. "Don't ever fall in love, you hear me?"

 

Jim had finished looking at all the pictures and had come to stand in front of one last frame. The headache had thankfully and inexplicably vanished. He was relieved he didn't have to ask Bones for headache pills.

"Your dad?" he asked, pointing to the picture; avoiding responding to Bones' advice about love.

 

Bones' face softened as he looked at the picture with a gentle gaze. "Yeah." And he went into the kitchen, glass in hand.

 

Jim waited for more, but apparently the doctor was not going to elaborate. There seemed to be some history there. Jim could sense it but his friend was not ready to talk. And that was fine. Because Jim didn't feel like talking either.

So, Jim followed him, leaned on the end of a counter-top and watched his friend.

 

On one slab of marble counter top, there was a variety of ingredients and spices spread out. Bones put on oven gloves and took out a tray from the oven. He tested with a tooth-pick and put the tray back again.

"Not done, yet. Another five minutes." Then he got busy taking out another tray from refrigerator.

 

Jim surveyed the food his friend was planning to serve him. "Bones, what have you done? More importantly, when did you get the time?"

"I took the afternoon off. Couldn't work, once I got the message. From the lawyer."

"Oh." He had never heard Bones taking a day off. Never. "And so you went grocery shopping?" Jim asked.

 

Bones was heating a pan with oil. He expertly lifted marinated slices of fish from the tray, and laid them in the hot pan.

"Well....I figured this would be the last time I would see you. At least for a while." Bones took out a pitcher full of iced tea. He refilled Jim’s glass.

 

"You know? I just came to know, ten minutes back." Jim sipped the iced tea. His friend had really gone all out.

"I learned it yesterday night. They needed me to sign off. As your doctor."

 

The oven beeped. McCoy flipped the fillets on the pan. Then, he bent down, took the tray out of the oven and put it to cool down on the opposite side of the kitchen. The smell of corn bread filled the air.

 

"Well, I’m touched Bones. I don't think anyone has ever put up such a feast for me."

"It's not all for you." The doctor admitted as he cut the corn bread into chunks and handed a warm one to Jim. "It's December, and I am old fashioned. My family has retained some practices of the past - one of them being - we cook up a storm on 25th and hold a family style buffet party. I am not religious but I liked the feel of family coming together."

 

Bones delicately removed the fried catfish from the pan and put in a new batch. "I lost my family even before I joined StarFleet. It just took this long for it to sink in. Today I am officially single again. And these past months, I have realized, that may be, I am not made for a family life. Or at least not the traditional family." Bones looked at him then and smiled his trademark dry smile.

 

Jim hadn't really thought about having his own family that much. He shrugged.

 

"You see yourself settling down - kids and wife and all?" Bones was curious.

"Ummm, am not sure. But I guess not that kind of family." Jim couldn't see himself tied down to such a stable life. He needed some dose of insanity and recklessness in his life.

 

Bones handed another corn bread to Jim; he took it gratefully. He had not been brought up in a close-knit family, and standing with Bones, in the kitchen, being fed and cared for, listening to his stories, felt really good.

 

"May be men like us aren't designed to be bound to a single woman, ya know?" Bones seem to have found some relief in Jim's reply.

"May be."

 

 "So, what about you, Jim? How is the training going?" Now that the doctor seemed to have poured his heart out, the attention was directed towards Jim.

 

Jim told him about how he had snapped at his crew all day, and then Finney's feedback which had taken him by surprise.

"Well, what did ya expect? It's been, what more than four weeks? A whole month! And you've been running them ragged. I bet they are exhausted. These are people, Jim, not machines!" The fish were done. Bones was getting some boiling water from the synthesizer. He had a heap of chopped green beans and onions ready.

 

"I am not saying they aren't people. But, that's no excuse. We enrolled in StarFleet because we expect to be performing under pressure. If they can't do it in a safe simulation exercise, how can they expect to last in real life missions?" Jim finished the corn bread.

 

"Cut them some slack. Are you sure this is not about you?"

"How do you mean?"

"You taking out your frustration at them." Bones raised a hand cutting off Jim's retort, and said, "Think about it for a minute."

 

Jim paused. Maybe his friend had a point. _Was he being unrealistic? He may have been battling his own fights_ _,_ _but Jim truly didn't believe he had let it affect his work._

Bones continued, "I mean, your supervisor is literally telling you, that you can take it easy. What does it matter, those extra efficiency points, you’re trying to squeeze out of those poor cadets."  Bones got busy dumping the veggies into the steaming water in a big pot.

 

 

Jim took a deep breath. "Here's the thing. I didn't know, and they didn't know, what was expected of us. So, yes, I pushed maybe, but we proved that it could be done. Finney says we raised the bar. If we had taken it easy, then we wouldn't have known our true potential. Isn't that what humanity is about? The need to push ourselves, to reach for the stars, even if they are beyond our grasp?"

 

Bones raised an eyebrow at that. "Yes. It is, Jim, but humans are also emotional creatures. We fail, we cry, we feel pain, we get scared. You're expecting your crew not to be affected by these."

 

"No, I am not saying that. Of course, we have emotions. But, your business is emotions. Mine is risk. As a doctor, you are supposed to nurture, heal and shield your patients from stress. As a Captain, I am responsible for how well my crew is trained to handle stress. In an emergency, it's not at our best but at our worst that we perform. So, our worst has _got_ to be good enough to save the day. I am responsible for lives, Bones! Hundreds of lives! And during those moments, when my ship and these lives are at stake, I want to know I have done everything I could do. The difference between a catastrophe and a success is those extra efficiency points. So, yes, damn it, I expect my men and women to perform better, to give more. It's nothing I don't expect of myself. It's not because I don't care about them, it's because I care too much to lose anyone!" Jim finished passionately.

 

Bones was finishing plating everything. "That feel good, getting all that off your chest?"

Jim was a little flushed and breathing hard. "Yeah, it did."

 

"Can you take these to the table?" Bones pointed to the fried fish. "And the plates and all are in the cupboard there."

 

Jim started setting the table. Bones had some beautiful china. Jim almost felt bad taking them out. He was not the kind who could really appreciate their full beauty. But he tried his best to layout the table to do justice to his friends' efforts.

 

Once they sat down, and started eating, Bones looked at Jim with steady blue eyes and said, "All that you said, that's who you _are_ , Jim. You'll make a good Captain. If you ever feel like you losing yourself, hold on to this feeling, this passion you have."

 

A few minutes passed while they tucked in to the feast.

"I will miss you." Jim was overcome at the thought of separating from this man, who seemed to love Jim like a father, a brother, a friend - so many things.

 

"When will you be back?" Bones asked.

"I dunno. Need to report tomorrow morning to Commoder Bailey. I am guessing I’ll know then." Jim concentrated on cutting the fish in equal pieces, letting his emotions calm a bit.

 

"How do you feel about the mission, though?"

"A little surprised, to be honest. Not sure why they picked me." Bones was a good cook, Jim admitted to himself as he chewed his bite.

"What do ya mean? Weren't you working on something related to that with Spock?"

 

It still hurt to hear his name. Jim had to focus on breathing normally for a moment and not tip off Bones.

"Yes. I guess that was it. But, it feels wrong....I am not the only one who should get all the credit."

"The hobgoblin didn't want any part of it apparently. What can ya do about it?"

 

Jim nodded. He couldn't trust himself to talk about Spock. Everything else he could, but not Spock.

They ate the rest of the dinner talking about the politics of Axanar battle, and the treaty.

 

 

"Why don't you stay back for the night?" Bones asked as they were clearing the table.

Jim agreed readily. There was no point in going back to his room.                          

After they had cleaned up, and Jim had helped Bones pack the leftovers, he went over to Bones and gave him a bear hug.

"Thanks, Bones. For everything."

 

 

Since he was still in his uniform, having gone straight to the cafeteria from the training, Bones lent him a fresh pair of night pants. The guest bedroom was comfortable, warm, and reminded him of home somehow.

"I have my own blasted space training starting tomorrow. So, I will probably be gone before you are up. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen, okay? I don't want to hear you missed breakfast." McCoy instructed in his usual no nonsense voice.

Jim nodded.

"Comm me when you know your departure time." Bones clapped Jim on his back and said, "Good night, Jim. Take the pill."

"I will."

 

Bones closed the door softly behind him, leaving Jim alone. He took the pill, then changed into the night pants and got ready for bed. He hoped the evening had been cathartic for his friend, but ironically, Jim felt relief too. He couldn't speak openly like Bones did about his emotions, but he suspected Bones understood Jim more than he let on.

 

Once tucked under the sheets, he let his mind wander, safe in the knowledge that the pill would be acting soon. Sleep would rescue him before he was too far gone, into the bottomless pit of despair. He let his thoughts take him to places he feared to go in daylight.

 

_What was Spock doing right now?_

_Was it day or night on Vulcan?_

_Did he miss Jim at all?_ Spock had told him that Vulcans didn't miss anything. That hurt more than he wanted to admit. Even if Spock had left him, Jim wanted to believe that the Vulcan was at least affected a little too.

 

It had been forty days. Jim had picked up the bad habit of being precise from a certain Vulcan. And if he counted the entire exam period, then it had been 61 days. The last time they had been together, without fighting, was the night before exams. Spock had held his wrist. And knelt down in front of Jim.

 

He could still feel the ghost of a tingle on his skin, where those long fingers had caressed him. Jim wished the bruise hadn't healed. The wrist bruise and his shoulder wound - the marks had disappeared, leaving behind smooth skin. Nothing remained which was tangible.

 

Sometimes, he felt like he was losing his mind. Like the whole thing had only existed in his head. A delusion.

 

Bones had his ring, the pictures and Jim guessed many other physical artifacts. He had the official designation of a divorcee. He was allowed by society to mourn, to grieve, to rant, to escape.

 

But not Jim. Jim had _nothing_.

 

Granted Bones had been married for years and Jim shouldn't even be comparing. To others, Jim was perhaps just a teenager, caught up in a trivial drama. After all, he had known Spock for less than six months. It was one reason why he couldn't speak to anyone. Who would understand or believe him? No one except Ruth.

 

Jim himself had no idea how Spock had ended up wound in the tapestry of his life in such a short time, and in such an intricate manner. Trying to separate out the threads now meant unwinding his whole self. And surviving meant living with parts of him that seemed to have died.

 

Every one said time healed everything. Jim wondered if by time they meant hours or days or years. Or maybe lifetimes. Would he end up like Bones? Bitter and broken, and wanting to escape it all?

 

Perhaps, Jim had once thought of space as escape too. But he was equally driven by the promise of exploration. Of adventure. Of the thrill of discovery. And then, during the preceding months, there had come a time, when his dreams about space had started involving Spock too. He had started thinking of a future where they might end up serving on the same ship.

 

To go into the unknown together. Learn and revel in the magic of the cosmos, side by side.

To see those brown eyes lit up at some complex scientific finding about some distant star.

Those delicate fingers joined together, while Spock was in deep thought about some experiment in space.

 

Somehow, somewhere, Jim's lifelong fantasy for seeking adventure and new experiences had merged into a shared vision. Into a shared life.

 

So many dreams - lost and crushed.

All he was left with were the jagged ends. They seem to twist inside him in a slow dance of wrath and torture. He was bleeding out, had been bleeding so long now, but the wound was invisible to others. Jim grasped the sheets on the bed.

 

Bones words came back to him - "Don't ever fall in love."

The pill was finally working its magic. The gentle arms of unconsciousness wrapped around him and hugged him tightly. He burrowed his face into the soft pillow, curled up under the sheets and let his tears fall in the privacy of the night.

 

_Goodnight, Spock._

_I miss you._

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Spock took one step, dragged his left leg from behind him to ahead of him, and then in another painful limp, moved his right one ahead. He grasped his left thigh and pulled it ahead till both his feet were lined up.

Limp. Drag. Limp. Drag.

 

Green drops fell from him and painted a trail behind on the dry dusty planet surface.

 

He stopped after a while, panting. The temptation to fall where he was standing was enormous. He looked behind in the near darkness. The sky above was lit faintly by the yellow satellite of the planet. Pairs of glowing eyes stared back at him from some distance away. He counted nine. It had been eight a while back. Had that been one hour, or a day earlier? His internal chronometer was failing.

 

He turned around and continued.

 

Limp. Drag.

 

The leg was dead meat and bones. And the infection had been spreading. Ahead of him and behind him, wherever he looked, it was the same scenery. Unending dusty sand plains with no sight of any shelter, vegetation, or water body.

 

Thirst was driving him insane. He had gone for days without any food or water. He could still go on without food for a much longer time but even his Vulcan metabolism was having trouble coping with the dehydration brought upon by his injury and the planet's intense heat. His lips were cracked and bleeding, worsened as a result of him licking them. 

 

He stumbled on a rock he had missed seeing. His vision was failing him. With a groan, borne of the pain as his leg twisted in an unnatural angle, he crashed and landed in a heap. Spock cursed in Vulcan.

 

For a few minutes, he gulped mouthfuls of air, trying to stabilize his body as pain shot through him in waves. He closed his eyes, and tried to summon his internal strength - a product of a life time of meditation.

 

Mind over body. _He could do it. He had his own will. The pain would not win._

 

He started at the sound of heavy breathing coming from nearby. Apparently, his hearing was compromised as well. He looked up and realized the nine pair of eyes had silently moved closer to him. Much too close. They had made a circle around him, surrounding him from all sides. He must have been stationary for longer than he thought. He could make out the teeth and claws from this distance.

 

 _Not yet_ _,_ _my friends._ Spock thought. _I am still alive._

 

He pushed himself off, relying entirely on his right leg on hold his weight. For a moment he lost balance and his weight fell on his left leg. Spock cried out in agony.

 

The sudden sound in the still night felt eerily out of place. The eyes backed off – and he was moving again.

 

Spock was envious of the creatures. He would give anything right now to get one of those sharp teeth in his hands. His leg needed to go. He would have amputated himself a long time back, but he had nothing sharp with him. The only thing he had managed to grab, had been the small bag which he now carried on his back. It contained a compass, water proof light sticks, and a thermal blanket. The first and last items were useless. The second item though, had so far saved his life.

 

He detected the telltale sign of dawn erupting in the distance. Relief flooded him. He had made it another night. As soon as the planet would be bathed in its star's hot light, the creatures would fall back and disappear only to come back at night. It was the reason Spock was traveling at night and resting during day time. It also made for more comfortable travel, as the night temperatures were tolerable but the days were so hot, that even Spock's skin had been burnt.

 

He spotted a sand dune further ahead and focused on it as his destination. By the time he reached the base of it, the night had ended. The creatures were gone. Spock fell to the ground in utter exhaustion.

 

Before he slipped into the half- sleep state he would assume, for next several hours, he checked the link inside his mind. The golden thread shimmered and lazily twisted. He knew Jim must have suffered emotionally, initially, possibly distraught at his departure, but that was secondary to his life. He had felt the link abruptly start dying, the night he had left Earth. Spock had been overcome then with the irrational urge to turn around and go back.

 

So now, it was all that mattered - that the link was alive and so that meant Jim was well, too. He sent ripples of warmth and care and peace to the link hoping a fraction of it would be reaching Jim.

 

Spock did it every day when he rested. During the nightly torturous walks, it was impossible to control his pain from seeping into the link. He tried to shield as much as he could, but with each passing day, he had become weaker and weaker. Spock estimated he had only few days remaining now. He hoped when the time came, the link would not hurt at Jim's end. The creatures would probably tear him apart alive, but he was hoping he would be able to pass out through meditation before that.

 

Spock knew he was nine hours ahead of San Francisco time, which meant it must be bedtime back home.

 _Home._ Strange that Earth was his home now.

 

He rested his head on the slope of the sand dune. He couldn't make himself any more comfortable, so this would have to do.

_Goodnight Jim._

_Sleep well, Ashayam._

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation from Vulcan:  
> Ashayam - beloved.


	36. Family

2252.12, StarFleet Headquarters,

 

San Francisco, Earth.

 

0730 hours. December 14th.

 

Jim waited nervously at the lobby of the Fleet headquarters. The gleaming tower rose up above him, most of its inner walls transparent. Jim could see people moving about, in floors above; men and women dressed smartly and exuding an air of StarFleet royalty. He felt decidedly out of place in his red cadet uniform.

 

The lobby itself was scattered with various seating arrangements, and all along the circular periphery of the huge room, plants of every shape and size met his eyes. The skylights and the transparent walls made the whole environment bright and airy. On the walls, hung silent holomonitors - some of them showing breath taking views of distant gas clouds and nebulae. The other screens scrolled through the latest news headlines of the Federation on that day.

 

"The Commodore will see you now, Cadet Kirk." The receptionist looked up at Jim, having processed his prints, bio-scans and verified his identity. "If you could please wait by those doors to your left, you will be escorted up. Have a pleasant day."

Jim thanked him, and walked over to the doors the man had indicated. He smoothed his tunic for the hundredth time and fixed his cap.

 

The doors swished open. A tall woman nodded at him curtly and gestured to follow. She took him up through several floors and deposited him at another lobby, this one much smaller, and decorated in rich hues of red and blue. Unlike the smooth sleek floor of the lobby, Jim's boots sunk into thick carpet. Another receptionist processed him a second time, and then showed him inside a huge briefing room.

 

Commodore Bailey was a tall, wiry man with a head full of salt and pepper hair. His face transformed from stern to warm, when he smiled at Jim. The officer came forward to meet him.

 

"So, you are the young man, I have heard so much about! A pleasure to meet you, Cadet."

A firm handshake, and then he led Jim past the gigantic meeting table to the far end of the room, adorned with a couple of couches.

 

Jim stood rigidly at attention, but Bailey waved his hand. "Relax. Sit down!"

Relaxation was far from his mind, but Jim did feel some of his anxiety lessen at the Commodore's friendly attitude.

 

"I have read through your initial paper, Kirk, when Robbins forwarded it to me. She speaks very highly of you. Very impressive. Good work there, son. Quite a bit of your original ideas have been retained and transformed into our final charter. For a Cadet, and a first year at that, such a contribution is unprecedented."

"Thank you, Sir."

"So, I pushed for you to be included in this mission. It's only fair that you be part of this historic meeting."

"Thank you, Sir." Jim replied again.

"We leave tomorrow morning under my command." Bailey picked up a PADD lying on the low table in front of them. "I know this is a bit of short notice. With so many things going on, I didn't get time to get to you earlier."

"It is absolutely fine, Sir."

 

Bailey was being rather kind, and he didn't have to be. He could just order Jim around. Jim had read about the man's accomplishments - an excellent Captain and officer who had risen through the ranks rapidly, known for his diplomatic skills and inclusive leadership. Jim could see now why the man had been so successful.

 

 

"Let's see..."  Bailey scrolled through his screen on the PADD. "I have you assigned to Ensign Cayne. That's Daria Cayne. She will be your ‘go to’ person on the ship. Since you're a cadet, you don't have any official duties aboard, but I thought you might be interested in shadowing her." Bailey looked up.

 

"I would be extremely interested, Sir." Jim couldn't believe his good fortune.

 

"I thought so. The Academy agreed to let me have you, provided you kept up with your studies. So, they have loaded stuff for you on the ship's computer. There will be plenty of downtime while we travel, plus at Axanar, between the meetings. So you better be studying. Don't let me down, son, and don't get into trouble." Bailey smiled. "Any questions?"

 

"What would be expected of me at Axanar, Sir?" Jim asked.

 

Bailey put the PADD back down with a thump on the table. He leaned back and looked at Jim.

"You have clearance to attend the peace talks. Mostly, I expect you to observe and learn from this once in a lifetime opportunity. I will be doing most of the talking, and my aides will handle the rest. If you have any inputs, I would welcome them. I may be too busy, so feel free to reach out to one of my aides. You will be a part of the team, so you will be representing StarFleet. This is an extremely delicate political situation. I hope I don't have to remind you, that you must be on your best behavior at all times, inside and outside the meetings. Everything you say, and do, will reflect directly on our image, and our overall ability to bring these talks to fruition."

 

Bailey got up. "I must get back to my work now. The last 24 hours before departure are the most frantic." The senior officer offered his hand and Jim shook it. "See you tomorrow Kirk. Daria will meet you outside and brief you with details of your preparation."

 

"Thank you, Sir. I am honored, and I promise you I will not let you down." Bailey had earned Jim's admiration even before this whole Axanar thing had come up. Along with Garth, he was one of the few heroes Jim really looked up to. But now, the man had won Jim's lifelong loyalty with this display of kindness and show of faith in him.

 

While Jim waited outside in the lobby for Ensign Cayne, the reality and magnitude of what he was about to embark on, slowly sunk in.

 

He couldn't help but think of Spock. His friend deserved to be on this mission, too. It had been their joint project after all, and they had both believed in the vision of peace with all their hearts. Jim remembered the hours of discussion they had, about the future of Federation, and the endless documents they had read together of past diplomatic ventures. Spock had the unique perspective of being the son of an Ambassador, and their final paper would not have been possible without his friend's wisdom, insight, and hard work.

 

Daria Cayne was a blond, petite woman who spoke and moved with enough energy to power a ship. Jim was beginning to feel excited. He had been a bit apprehensive earlier at the thought of not knowing anyone, but the more he met the people, who would be on this mission, the more relaxed he felt. 

 

She dumped a ton of information on him.

 

It was lunch time by the time Jim left the Fleet headquarters.

 

He took out his communicator and saw there was a message waiting for him from Ruth.

"What's this I hear, Jim? You're leaving?"

Jim had hardly found time to let others know.

"Yeah, I just learnt yesterday. Going to Axanar," he typed as he walked.

 

Then, he sent a new message to Bones.

"Just out of the meeting with brass. I am leaving tomorrow morning at 0900 hours."

 

A reply flashed from Ruth.

"Meeting for lunch, at usual time and place?"

 

They usually spent Sundays together, exploring new cafes, and the city's various museums and landmarks.

"Not today, sorry. I need to pack, get a haircut, meet security to get my clearance, etc. How about dinner, though?" Jim replied as he hurried back to the Academy.

"You're on. Message me when and where, when you're ready. Oh, and Aretta is asking for your departure details."

Jim forwarded the details to her and then started making lists in his mind. So many things to do! He didn't want to forget something important, only to realize in the middle of space, that he had!

 

 

* * *

 

 

It turned out there were far more things to wrap up than he had originally estimated. Jim ran around all afternoon, with no time to spare.

At 1900 hours in the evening, Ruth messaged him.

 

"Hey! Dinner?"

"Oh shoot! I am exhausted. And I still need to pack. Sorry." Jim was making his way back to his room, sweating and walking hurriedly.

"That's what friends are for, silly. Let me get your dinner and help you pack?"

"You are an angel, Ruth! I am starving!" Jim smiled at his communicator.

"What do ya want? Your favorites, I’m guessing? Who knows what you will get to eat for next many weeks!" Ruth replied.

"Don't remind me. Argh. Okay, I'm gonna take a quick shower. See ya in 45 ish mins." Jim closed his communicator.

 

He had been issued two new sets of dress uniforms. They looked fancy, with shiny buttons and all. Jim wasn't too keen on the design, but if the Commodore was going to be decked in those, oh well, he would swallow his pride.

 

He laid them down carefully on his bed, along with the stack of stuff he had been collecting today - a brand new phaser, an upgraded field communicator, the briefing mission, a new PADD, and a small rectangular attaché case, to pack his personal belongings to take aboard.

 

All throughout the afternoon, his communicator had kept beeping constantly. Friends and Professors alike, congratulated him, and wished him Bon Voyage.

Just as he was about to dash into the bathroom, another message flashed.

"Did you collect your new meds? I added some vitamins. The ship doctor has your med history, but you better pack them first." Bones, of course.

Jim took a tiny bottle, put it in inside the empty attaché case, and then messaged back, "Done."

 

* * *

 

When he opened his door, Ruth greeted him with her trademark coy smile, and shook the bag in front of his nose.

Jim took the bag with a grin, and made way for her to step inside his room.

 

He had just propped open the attaché case and was making a list of things to pack. He set the dinner on his unusually clean study table.

 

Ruth looked around the room and exclaimed, "Wow, it really looks like you're leaving. You cleaned up well." Then she spotted the pile of stuff and her eyes twinkled. "Oooh! A phaser! And what's this?" She picked up the new communicator.

 

"Field grade comm, Madam. Please don't mess with it."

She waved him away with a "Go pack!" and flopped on his bed on her stomach, heels crossed in the air. After she had gone through all the gadgets, her eyes fell on the dress uniforms.

"I want a picture of you in that." She pointed, barely containing her smirk.

"It's not that bad, okay?"

"Uh-uh. Bet you will sparkle in the dark." She ran a finger along the jewel-like adornments.

 

Jim kicked himself mentally for not packing those away first, before she could have seen them.

 

He was debating which of his favorite antique books to pack.

 

Ruth picked up the mission briefing papers and started paging through them. Jim deliberated some more, and finally with a sigh, packed three of his favorite books.

He was knee deep in stuffing the attaché, when Ruth spoke up after some time. "It says here 'no sexual liaisons permitted'."

"It does not."

"It so does." She stabbed the page with a finger.

"Seriously?" Jim paused, and went over to look at the document in her hand.

 

"Hmph."

"Jim? Do you even know the complications of sexually transmitted diseases from inter-species-"

"God! You medical people!" Jim cut her off. Then he cocked his head to one side and said, "I thought you were here to help me?"

"I am. Clearly, someone needs to read this, and get it through your head." She went back to flipping the pages.

 

 

After another half an hour, he was done. Not because he had run out of things to take, but because he had no more space.

They ate dinner together, silently, each engrossed in their own thing. Jim replied to all the new messages people had sent; Ruth kept reading the document and letting him know the highlights.

 

"All right, you have to sleep." Ruth finally got up and smoothed her skirt. Then, she looked at him and her expression changed into something vulnerable, even as she seemed to be trying to fight it.

She bit her lower lip and looked down at her shoes.

 

Jim sensed that she was trying to hold it together. She seldom showed her emotions openly, and Jim had often wondered if she kept up the cheerful and carefree persona just for him. He was thankful for it though. It made spending time with her refreshing.

"Hey...come here." He opened his arms and spoke in a soft voice.

She shook her head and refused to look up. So, Jim stepped towards her and pulled her into an embrace. "It's just a temporary mission. I will be back in no time, Ruth." He spoke into her hair.

 

"Some people don't come back." A strangled voice informed him.

Jim knew she was referring to her mother. He hugged her tighter. "I will."

 

She looked up at him, eyes brimming with tears.

"Be careful, Jim." Then, she extracted herself from his hug, and was gone before Jim could say anything more.

 

He had wanted to say so many things, but then again, he had learnt that often, so much was best left unsaid.

After Ivanov, Jim had wisened up a bit. He had come to the realization, after spending the last month with her, that she probably saw him as more than just a friend. But, they had spent time together as just friends, and he had come to look forward to their shared outings and talks. Jim had to trust that she knew what she was doing.

 

Before he snuck inside the bed covers, he went to his desk's drawer and took out a pen. He held it to his chest for a minute, fondly remembering that evening with Spock. Then he carefully packed it with his phaser and other important items.

 

Tired from the hectic day, but feeling excited about tomorrow, he fell asleep easily.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Next morning, Jim arrived at the departure hangar with his attaché in one hand, and his travel badge chip in another.

Shuttlecrafts were taking off into the sky, heading to the space dock above San Francisco. An overhead robotic female voice was announcing - "Boarding Shuttlecraft 118 now. Please stand by. Boarding Shuttlecraft 118 now. Please..."

 

Jim looked around among the throng of people, and immediately caught a pair of blue eyes. Bones waved at him, and they walked towards each other.

"All set?" McCoy asked.

"I think so." Jim's heart was beating fast. It was hard to not get excited and nervous at the scene around him.

"Which shuttlecraft is yours?"

Jim looked at the chip in his hand, "225."

"I don't think they are calling in any order. I just heard 315 being called a minute back." McCoy folded his arms and followed Jim's line of sight. "Who are you looking for?" He asked.

"No one, I guess." Jim shrugged.

"She ain't coming." McCoy said calmly.

"Why?"

"I dunno...women?" The doctor offered his explanation.

 

Jim turned his attention to his friend.

"Well, this isn't goodbye, okay? You're not leaving till I am back." Jim said.

Bones' expression softened. "I sure hope so, kid. But tell you what, even if I did happen to leave before you're back, I want to hear from you. Send me space cubes regularly, will ya?"

Jim shook his head. "No, I can't think about it. This isn't goodbye and I will see you in a few weeks," he stubbornly replied.

 

Before Bones could go on, Jim spotted his gang. Valas and the others were heading towards them. Jim's face broke into a smile. As soon as they were in range, Jim was enveloped in a group hug. Everyone started speaking at the same time, congratulating him, instructing him to be careful...and Jim just basked for a moment in his friends' arms. He mumbled back whatever came to mind, too emotional to make much sense.

 

"Boarding Shuttlecraft 225 now. Please stand by..." the voice droned.

 

Valas broke away from the group, and the hug dissolved. She took out something from her pocket and held it out to Jim. "From us." She said, her antennae quivering.

Jim picked up a small package from her hands - a tightly rolled fabric ball inside a box.

"Six pairs of socks, from the six of us. All same color and design. Can't have the Academy being represented by mismatched socks." She smiled.

Jim was too overcome to say anything, so he put on his bravest smile and hoped his face didn't betray his internal fragile state.

 

"There he is!" He heard the familiar voice of his Chief of Engineering. Jim looked up from the socks in his hand, and his jaw dropped open. Aretta and Nathan were marching towards him, followed by what looked like his entire crew. All 47 of them.

A few of the people passing by looked at the mob descending on him, and Jim turned crimson red with embarrassment.

 

All chaos broke loose, as Jim was bodily tossed around, among hugs and handshakes and even some kisses on his cheeks.

"Good luck, Captain."

"Take care, Kirk."

"Bring me some Axanar booze!"

"You kicked our asses, thanks Captain!"

 

 

Jim sought out Aretta, and held her hands in a tight grip. "Thanks Aretta. I know this was your idea, somehow."

She smiled. "If you let my hands free, I have something for you."

 

"Boarding Shuttlecraft 225 now. Please stand by..." The voice announced.

"Jim, that's you!" Bones broke through his crewmates.

 

Aretta pushed a small rectangle frame into his hands. "What's this?" Jim asked as Bones started pulling him.

"Something to remember us by," she replied.

 

Jim looked at the tiny holoframe and turned it on. Hand written messages flashed by, one after another, signed by each of his crew. Jim pressed his lips tight and looked back at all of them. He managed to shout out, "Thank, guys. It was an honor!" before Bones started pushing him earnestly towards the other passengers who were all boarding the shuttle craft.

 

"Go, Jim. Don't miss your own damn shuttle," Bones warned him.

 

Jim turned back from the faces of everyone he loved and knew, blinking back his tears.

He checked to make sure he still had his attaché in hand, and his travel chip was securely in his other hand. He tucked the socks and the holoframe inside his trousers' pocket carefully.

 

At the front of line, he handed his chip to the security officer.  The officer scanned it, and nodded at him to proceed to board.

He stood waiting near the steps for his turn, turned back towards his family, and waved.

 

And there, in the very back of the crowd, stood a petite figure clutching an orange flower in her hands. Jim raised his hand, as if wanting to reach out but he was too far away. Then, Aretta spotted her friend and in a swift movement, she caught Ruth's arm and dragged her towards Jim. At the last moment, she shoved Ruth, who stumbled over to the passengers’ line.

 

Steel grey eyes met hazel ones.

 

She extended her right arm and he took the single Zinnia from her. "Bye, Jim," She whispered.

"Bye," was all Jim could reply before the officer called his name, and he climbed up the steps.

 

The last thing he saw, as he turned his head for a second, before he vanished inside the shuttle, was a tear streaked face, with grey eyes looking at him.


	37. Brothers

2252.12, En-route to Axanar.

 

1930 hours. Dec 20th.

 

 

Jim looked up to see the doors open, and Dr. Fabrice Muamba walk in. He was a middle-aged man with a head full of dark tight curls.

"Studying?" the doctor asked him with a smile.

Jim straightened up from his lounging position on the his bunk and said, "Not much to do for me, and the Commodore wants to make sure I don't flunk my exams."

 

"Good. Very good. I like to see that." Dr. Muamba nodded, and went to the adjoining bathroom.

 

Jim had been a late addition to the crew, and hence, didn't get assigned a room till the last moment. So, he was being roomed with the CMO of the ship, in a most unusual arrangement. Every time Dr. Muamba spoke or smiled, Jim had to remind himself that not all doctors were like Bones. He found it amusing, how accustomed he had become to Bones' dry wit and sarcasm.

 

Dr. Muamba came back from the head, and sat down on the bunk across from Jim. There was hardly any gap between their beds. The arrangement though, wasn't that bad. The doctor was gone a lot, during what was simulated as night-time on the ship. During daytime, Jim liked to study in the observation deck, tucked in a corner most of the day. So, it wasn't as claustrophobic as he had feared, sharing such close quarters.

 

The senior man stretched himself on the bed and cracked his joints. Jim went back to his reading.

 

"You are an awfully quiet young man." Dr. Muamba remarked after a while.

Jim looked up, "I am missing a lot of my classes," he explained.

 

"Oh, I know that. As I said, I like it when youngsters take their duties seriously. But, you seem a little too serious. I have not seen you hang out with others your age, on the ship. Why don't you take a break, go, have some fun?" The man had settled down on the bed, with hands behind his head, ready to take one of his power naps, as Jim had come to think of them.

 

Jim closed his PADD. He knew that trying to refuse this seemingly benign suggestion would not be wise. Doctors were sharp, and this man had Jim under his microscope. He knew the man meant well, but it seemed such a waste. Nevertheless, he got up from his bed and said, "All right, Doctor."

 

He went to his shelf in the dresser that they were sharing, and pulled out one of his antique books.

"No, No. No more reading of any kind." Dr. Muamba laughed.

 

Jim swallowed the irritation creeping up inside him. Again, he tried to smile, and said, "Point taken."

 

He left the room, before Dr. Muamba could scrutinize him anymore.

 

He stood outside the CMO's room, deliberating on where he could go. "Fun" was not on his agenda. Ensign Cayne had shown him around in the first two days. He was allowed to go anywhere except the med-bay and the bridge. It had been an interesting experience to see how much a real-life mission differed from their simulation exercise. Everything was more alive and spontaneous. Even the ship seemed to be breathing under his feet.

 

But, his initial excitement had dampened a bit. They had been in space five days now, and a sense of melancholy had begun to seep inside him. He decided to just take a walk around the ship, spend some time gazing out at dark space from the deck, and hopefully by then, the doctor would have be deep asleep, and he would be spared this idea of having fun.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

2252.12, The City of Borkahm.

 

Axanar.

 

1000 hours. Dec 25th.

 

Axanar was a dry, hot, desert-like planet. The inhospitable landscape took Jim by surprise, in spite of it being hinted at in the mission briefing. He watched from the observation deck of the ship, as they entered orbit. Strange mushroom shaped structures dotted the planet's surface. They were "cities", he had learnt. The Axanaris lived inside climate controlled, transparent, sealed, and self-contained mega-structures.

 

Once they were safely in orbit, Jim, along with the peace treaty group, transported down inside one of such mushrooms. It was the biggest one, the city called Borkahm. Their ship was to remain in orbit, with a skeleton crew on board.

 

The scale of these massive mushroom structures really hit him, from inside the city of Borkahm. Jim would never have guessed, had he not seen with his own eyes from the orbit, that it didn't look or feel any different to him than being on an open planetscape. A strange city, yes. Nothing like Earth, but nevertheless, a city with structures, which he guessed were houses or workplaces, paths, interesting looking trees, and beings. It didn't feel like he was inside a ginormous bubble.

 

"Does everyone live in one of these cities?" Jim asked his Axanari escort, whose name was beyond Jim's tongue's ability.

"Yes. Our planet became too hot, hundreds of years ago. So, our ancestors built these cities. There are more shelters under the ground. That is where most families live." His escort explained, as Jim was taken around on a tour, around the vicinity where they were to be housed.

 

"So, people go underground at night, to sleep?" Jim didn't know how accurately the universal translator was doing its job, but so far, he was having success at conversation. The Axanaris he had met, all seemed pleasant and amicable.

 

"Yes. Most go for rest. But, several workers remain here on the surface. The city cannot rest. To maintain life support, and the environment, we require constant monitoring and supervision."

 

"Your city is beautiful," Jim remarked honestly, as he walked with his guide, and watched the fascinating world around him.

At this, his escort stopped walking and bowed. "How is your planet? I have heard the entire planet is hospitable. Can you walk around everywhere you wish?" Finally, his escort seemed wanted to know more about Jim.

 

So, Jim tried to explain Earth, and all the things he took for granted - yes, on Earth one could go to almost any part without worrying about environment, just  some adaptive clothing. He tried to explain the concept of grass, mountains, oceans, clouds etc.

 

"I heard there are other cities, though. So, do people go to and come from elsewhere?" Jim was curious how the population of the entire planet lived. He was beginning to think that on Axanar, "cities" meant more like "countries."

 

"Yes, there are exits, which are secured, but one can leave and enter, at free will. We only take care to make the exits safe for children, so they do not mistakenly escape."

 

"What happens if someone does ‘mistakenly’ go out?" Jim asked.

 

"The outside atmosphere lacks enough oxygen for us." His escort turned towards Jim and peered at his face, specifically at his nose. "I am not sure, if your species will find the air different. But for us, the heat and air make it difficult to survive more than few hours. There are also predators that date back from centuries ago, who come out at night, and will hunt anything that is living. That is another reason the exits are secured, to prevent the animals coming inside here." 

 

“That sounds frightening. “ Jim raised an eyebrow.

“It is.”

His guide escorted him back to his room, and left Jim to ponder on all that he had learned.

 

 

 

 

  

* * *

 

 

2252.12, StarFleet Operations,

 

Hong Kong, Earth.

 

1330 hours. Dec 30th.

 

 

Chris Pike was sitting at his table when his computer beeped. He saw the incoming identifier, and smiled for the first time that day. He pushed the button and waited for his First Officer's face to appear.

 

"Good afternoon, what's cooking at the Academy?" Chris smiled at her.

Number One stared back at him without a smile.

"Uh-oh. You don't look too happy," Pike commented.

 

"Chris, we need to talk." Number One looked at him with eyes full of anxiety.

 

Pike was immediately on alert. "You mean ‘talk’, talk?" He asked just to be sure.

"Yes."

"When? I am swamped." Chris looked around his desk, piled with PADDs and memos with deadlines highlighted.

"Trust me. Asap." Number One pinched the bridge of her nose as she spoke. Her tension was almost palpable.

 

 

"Oh. Shit." Chris swore softly. She would never ask him for his time this way, unless, he suddenly realized, what may have happened.

"Umm, okay, let's see." Chris pulled up his schedule on his computer. He scrolled up and down, trying to figure which task had to be pushed back. He drummed his fingers on the table. Well, he was going to take flak, no matter whichever one he cancelled.

"Tomorrow, I can be there in the evening." He said.

"Let me come to you?" she asked, clearly worrying about the crazy schedule he had been keeping.

"No." He shook his head and looked at her meaningfully. "Six in the evening."

 

She nodded reluctantly. "Okay. See you."

 

"Pike out." He pushed the button and her face was swallowed by the screen.

 

Pike pushed another button on his desk, "Mike, cancel my rsvp for tomorrow's ball."

"Sir? May I remind you the New Year Eve's party has Ambassadors from all-" His yeoman, who doubled as his secretary while he was on Earth, was trying to do his job.

"I know. I know. I am going to be sick. So, I won't be in office from noon onwards, okay?" Pike said.

"I see. Understood, Sir."

"Book me a personal SuperHover too, for all day tomorrow. Thanks Mike."

 

Pike cut off the call, exhaled and leaned back on his chair.

 

He checked the time. He was going to meet the Chief Engineer of Enterprise in a few minutes. He pushed off the chair from his desk, filing away his worry about the call with Number One for later.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

2252.12, The City of Borkahm.

 

Axanar.

 

1400 hours. Dec  31st.

 

 

Jim enjoyed the experience, the new food, and the new people. A part of him was thrilled at the magic of it all. He had been assigned his own room, and his escort from the first day was available whenever he wanted to explore. Jim explored a lot, wandered around whenever there were no meetings, asking endless questions. His escort seemed delighted in his keen interest.

 

Despite it all, Jim's mood was gloomy. He couldn't shake off the thought that, had things been different, he would have shared all this with Spock. More than anything else, this is what he had wanted - to share new adventures. He knew Spock would have taken equal pleasure in learning about this new planet and its inhabitants.

 

His headaches were now constant every night. They plagued him and he slept fitfully. It couldn't be the Axanar air or water or food though. Jim couldn't find any frame of reference for his state of mind and body. He knew what depression felt like, and this was different.

However, a sense of morbid futility had settled on him.

 

 

On the fifth day of the meetings, dressed in StarFleet's dress uniform, Jim sat at the low platform made of black granite-like rock. It was a mammoth structure, seating almost 40 around it. It could at best, be called a very low height table. There were beings of various races representing the vastness of their galaxy. The humans and Axanaris dominated in numbers.  He couldn't be sure if he was the absolute youngest, because the Axanaris were physically so different than humans.  But, if not the youngest, he was definitely one of the youngest.

 

 

They all sat on the floor, around the black table. The floor was covered with fluffy carpet like sheets. There were bolster-like pillows between all of them. Jim had learned that they had no concept of chairs.

 

Initially, the talks had started politely. But then, the peace treaty document, which Jim was intimately familiar with, since a surprisingly portion of it was from Spock’s and his paper, had been tossed aside. On day two, arguments had flared up about territorial boundaries, weapons control and several petty issues. By day three, all progress had halted.

 

Today, the morning had started off the worst, and the mood around the table had kept going down, as the day progressed.

 

He looked around the room. Several people were engaged in whispered side conversations. Some simply looked down at the screens in front of them, their defeat obvious in their body language. Still others looked on despondently at the two heads of each faction, who were engaged in a verbal shouting match. Today was supposed to be the eve of New Year for Earth. A new beginning.

 

 

This was not what Jim had envisioned. This was not what Spock and he had believed in.

His dreams, _their_ dreams, were being crushed, in front of his very eyes.

His unshakable faith in the triumph of love over hate was being torn apart, piece by piece.

All his hopes lay asunder.

His angels fallen.

 

Jim shook his head, unable to accept.

 

Commodore Bailey stopped speaking abruptly and stared at Jim. The man's face was flushed, beads of sweat glistened on his forehead. It was a far cry from the calm gentleman Jim had seen in the fleet headquarters.

 

"Do you have something to say, young man?" Bailey challenged Jim directly, in a cold voice.

 

The room went silent. Every eye turned to Jim.

 

Jim felt absolutely no fear. There was a certain freedom in complete loss. When one is on the verge of losing everything, nothing remains to be afraid of.

 

In a steady voice, he replied, "Actually I do, Sir. I have a question for you."

 

This surprised the Commodore, who had perhaps expected a young cadet like Jim, to cower under the public scrutiny.

 

"Go ahead then, speak your mind. We can certainly spare a few minutes." The Commodore sat down heavily on his cushion, and looked at Jim with a stern glare.

 

Jim stood up, as was the custom of the Axanari, when anyone took the floor. He returned the Commodore's gaze without any hostility. "I was wondering sir, what would you like your legacy to be?"

 

"Excuse me?" Confusion was written clear on the senior officer's face.

 

"I have sat here for the past five days, Sir, watching the two sides engage in an elaborate dance. When I was told that I would be a part of this historic conference, I experienced one of the proudest moments in my life. I was excited to learn about this new planet and species."

 

Jim looked down for a moment, took a deep breath.

 

"Perhaps, it is my youth, sir. We young people are known for our irrational hope, our impractical belief in all that is good in this universe. We don't understand the issues you have been passionately arguing over. And perhaps, when I am as experienced as you are, I will too. You are one of my heroes, sir. I look up to you; I have read all about your accomplishments and your space adventures. So, forgive me, if I am deeply disappointed, Sir."

 

The air in the room was so charged with tension, that one could almost touch it.

 

Jim continued. "I have not fought and won battles like you have, Sir. Neither have I dedicated decades of my life to the service. What I have done though, is that infamous act the young are so known for. I have lost my heart to someone and I have known the joy of being in love. That experience reinforced one of my fundamental convictions. That love transcends everything. It doesn't matter if you love a human, or - ", Jim rolled a pen in his hand, "a Vulcan, or " - Jim looked up to the other side of the table -"or an Axanari."

 

He looked around the room, "What matters is, we are all beings who crave love, and we all know what heartbreak is, and we all fight the ultimate pain of sentient beings - the loneliness of existence. You were young once, Sir, you probably loved someone too."

 

Jim's voice trembled. "So, I am standing here, perhaps ending my career by my actions right now, but I _cannot_ accept this. If we all are unable to come together in peace, and recognize our common bond; if this peace conference is going to fail and war will start again, and if my heroes can't fight for the values I hold most dear, then I find, I don't have anything left to save my career for. But if this is my last act as a StarFleet representative, then I am proud of myself for trying."

 

Jim looked straight into the Commodore's eyes, and asked softly, "So, I am asking you, Sir, what would _your_ legacy be?"

 

Bailey didn't reply. His face, which had been very red before, now looked pained at Jim's words. He suddenly looked very, very, tired and old.

 

Jim sat down back to his folded leg posture.

 

Another moment of deathly silence ensued.

 

"I agree with the human." A voice speaking in halting Standard, through the universal translator came from the other side of the table. Jim turned and saw a female Axanari, who had been silent till now, looking at him. He smiled. She smiled back hesitantly.

 

Then, she stood up shakily and spoke in clipped sentences. "I have fought our People's War for the past two years. My parents died in this war. My sister died. My mate died. The day before this meeting began, I was putting my only child down for bed. He asked me, “Mother, are you going to meet Earth people?” I said “Yes.” He asked - “Do Earth people have parents?” I said, “Yes.” Then he questioned, “Do Earth children cry when their fathers do not return home?” I said yes again. Finally, he asked, “Then why do we fight them, Mother? If you do not come home too, what will I do, Mother?"

 

A huge lump lodged in Jim's throat, remembering the family he once had, that he would never have again.

 

The female vibrated with emotion and looked at her own leader. She folded her hands in some gesture, and spoke in a slow voice, "Respected Elder, I do not want my child to suffer as an orphan, if the war starts again. The cruel prey on orphaned children. I believed I was fighting for my child's and other children's future. If this meeting cannot unite us, I have decided to go back home, and end my child's life painlessly, and then my own. As the human-brother says, I too have nothing more left to fight for."

 

 The Axanari leader put both his hands up to his mouth.  Jim guessed he was as shocked at this mother's words, as he was.

 

Heavy uncomfortable silence descended on everyone.

 

No one spoke but there were glances being exchanged and the air in the room felt different. Jim turned to his own leader, and saw Bailey was equally moved by the alien's words. His face was thoughtful, his eyes pained.

 

The two leaders - like two titans - looked at each other, assessing for several moments.

 

Finally, to Jim's immense pride, Bailey nodded first.

But the Axanari spoke first, "So, we begin again?"

The Human replied, "We do, my brother. We begin again."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

2252.12, Golden Gate Park,

 

San Francisco, Earth.

 

1750 hours. Dec 31st.

 

 

Number One pretended to stretch her calf while her eyes darted around. She was waiting at the park behind the Golden Gate Bridge, a runners' and fitness enthusiasts' heaven. When she bent down to touch her toes with both her hands, she spotted him walking towards her, from between her thighs. She casually straightened up and started jogging. Pike broke into a jog and soon joined her. They were both dressed in simple athletic wear.

 

"You look good." He commented.

"Can't say the same about you. Doesn't look you've been sleeping much." She looked straight ahead.

"I will make it up on the five year mission. Long stretches of nothing to do." He smiled.

 

"I have bad news." She had never had much patience for chit-chat.

"Else I wouldn't be here....Spock?" Christopher Pike asked.

"I stopped receiving his signal few days back. I have tried everything. It's just gone." She sounded distraught even to her own ears.

 

 

"When was his last check-in?"

"Fourteen days back. The one I told you about." They passed a jogger from the opposite direction.

Pike looked at her questioningly. She shook her head, "No one from the Academy."

 

Pike was silent for some time.

"May be technical issue? Some malfunction?" He thought aloud.

"This is Spock we're talking about. He would have repaired it by now or found replacement." She replied.

 

"So, you think they got to him?" Pike finally asked the question.

"Yes." Number One whispered. "It's too much of a coincidence otherwise, that as soon as he had finally managed to find the evidence, he disappeared."

 

"He shouldn't have stayed back. I told you; get him back, once he had successfully foiled the assassination attempt. That was more than we had bargained for."

 

"He wouldn't listen to me! He was adamant. I think he hates Burke more than even I do. And he has a point, you know that, as well. Without the evidence, we can't touch Burke. And this is some deep shit the swine has tried to pull off. He needs to go down."

 

Pike sighed.

"Okay, I have to think about this. I don't know if I can -"

 

"Please, Chris! He is just 22. He is just a kid."

 

"He knew the risks, and the odds going in." Pike commented grimly, and stopped jogging.

 

"I am aware of that, too. But, he went way beyond the call of duty. Without him, we wouldn't have even known about this Nerophrene business Burke has been behind. Can you imagine the scope of planning? Burke had to have been planning the whole thing for months, or even years. He had to have a few of his loyalists in cahoots with him, for sure. We need to get all of these people, Chris. They are ruining StarFleet and everything we stand for. The scariest part is, Burke would have pulled it off. He actually would have succeeded in the assassination, and the entire peace process would have shattered. We would literally be at war right now, once again. And Burke would be sitting on Earth all along, with not a hair touched!" She finished close to tears.

 

They walked for some time; Pike was deep in thought.

Finally, he stopped and looked at her. "I will find a way. I promise, okay?"

She nodded.

 

"I will talk to you later." He patted her shoulder, then started jogging away and soon disappeared around the bend, out of her line of sight.

She pretended to stretch for some time - her mind going through various scenarios, about Spock, but coming up empty. In frustration and anger, she kicked a pebble.

 

In the darkness of the night, she reached her apartment. Inside, Number One touched the holocalendar on her bedroom wall. A new checkmark appeared for the day.

 

Fifteen days - and no contact.

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From TOS episode, "Whom Gods Destroy" :-
> 
> KIRK: I agree there was a time when war was necessary, and you were our greatest warrior. I studied your victory at Axanar when I was a cadet. In fact it's still required reading at the Academy.  
> GARTH: As well it should be.  
> KIRK: Very well. But my first visit to Axanar was as a new fledged cadet on a peace mission.  
> GARTH: Peace mission! Politicians and weaklings!  
> KIRK: They were humanitarians and statesmen, and they had a dream. A dream that became a reality and spread throughout the stars, a dream that made Mister Spock and me brothers.  
> GARTH: Mister Spock, do you consider Captain Kirk and yourself brothers?  
> SPOCK: Captain Kirk speaks somewhat figuratively and with undue emotion. However, what he says is logical and I do, in fact, agree with it.


	38. Duty

2253.1, The City of Borkahm.

 

Axanar.

 

0000 hours. Jan 1st.

 

 

"NO!" Jim cried out in horror, sending his chair crashing back, as he leapt to his feet. The sound of the metal chair colliding with the floor, was deafening in the tiny room.

 

Number One stared at him, shocked. She blinked once, as if she couldn't believe her eyes.

"Kirk, I am -" Number One started again, in a sympathetic voice.

 

"NO!" Jim bellowed. His raised his hands, in front of his face, as if shielding against a physical blow.

Silence fell in the room. She looked on, with a concerned expression from the screen.

 

Jim was in a briefing room of the ship, which was in orbit around Axanar. He had been asleep, down on the planet, when his escort had pounded on his door in the middle of the night. To his complete confusion, he had been connected to the ship orbiting above, and was told he needed to report that very minute.

 

So, without being given a chance to even change, Jim had been transported aboard. The ship was quiet, hardly anyone aboard, except the few crew members in charge. An engineer had wordlessly led him down the long winding corridor to this briefing room, closed the door, and left.

 

"You are forgetting your training, Cadet." Number One reminded him gently, but firmly.

 

Jim mutely shook his head.

 

"I see. I was not expecting the severity of your reaction. Take some time, Kirk. I will be in touch, shortly. Remember you're not to reveal this call to anyone, including your commanding officer." She leaned forward to cut off the transmission.

 

"Wait!" Jim spoke urgently.

Number One paused and looked at him expectantly.

 

"He is not dead, Sir. I promise you, Spock is not."  Jim pleaded.

"Do you have any proof?"

"Not the kind you are looking for. I just _know._ This sounds ridiculous, I realize it. But you have _got_ to trust me." Jim put his hands on the desk and leaned in, his whole body angled towards the tiny view screen.

 

She looked at him steadily.

 

"I am not delusional. Please, please, believe me. This is not the first time I have been given news like this. "Jim swallowed. “I didn't react this way, when they told me about my parents."

 

"Even if I believe you Kirk, what then?" Number One asked quietly.

 

Jim fought with his voice, trying to return to normal.

"I want to know, why have rescue operations not been mounted?"

 

Number One was silent. She studied Jim for a few minutes.

"Spock knew his risks going in. Rescue operations are not a trivial undertaking."

 

"We can't just leave him there to die!" Jim's voice started rising again.

"Neither can we waste precious resources, going on a wild goose chase, because a junior cadet can't deal with the reality." She snapped back.

 

Jim was stunned into silence. "Waste resources?" he repeated, dazed.

"This conversation is over, Cadet. You are clearly not in a frame of mind to think rationally." She leaned forward and cut off the transmission.

 

Jim stood staring at the blank monitor, his hands frozen on the table. Terror gripped him from head to toe. He was afraid to move, afraid to blink, or breathe.

 

Number One had contacted him via subspace relay from San Francisco, to let him know that Spock had gone MIA on an undercover mission on an undisclosed planet. The whole thing about him leaving StarFleet was a cover up. They were now declaring Spock as missing in action, presumably dead.

 

Jim had been completely unprepared for this kind of news. He had reacted so violently, that he was actually surprised at himself. He had shouted at his superior officer and behaved like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

 

_But, but...Spock was dead?_

 

NO!

 

His mind kept going blank, every time he tried to think of it. He couldn't breathe. He felt like he was losing touch with reality. And it made him start to lose control. Jim recognized the familiar, cold tendrils of panic creeping in. His hands felt clammy.

 

 _No!_ He didn't want to lose control, so he tried to block out all thoughts from his brain, and just focused on the physical act of breathing.

Then, out of the blue, Spock's voice floated in his mind. “ _Jim_.”

 

Jim exhaled. He latched onto the soothing tone of the voice. He breathed and counted back from fifty, focusing on the air moving through his lungs. It worked.

Finally, he relaxed from his frozen pose.

Then, he righted the fallen chair, and put it back to its original position.

 

Clad in his pajamas, Jim started pacing around the room. His brain was working again.

 

What would Spock have done in his position? If Jim was a Captain right now, and his officer had gone missing, what would he do?

 

First problem was Jim's adamant reaction. How did he know Spock wasn't dead?

When did he become a man, who couldn't handle the truth?

All he came up with was that, _his felt it in his soul that Spock was still alive._ That sounded ridiculous.

 

Yet, he couldn't even explain to himself, why he knew this. No wonder, Number One thought he was a lunatic.

 

Okay, then, he would work with the assumption that his instincts were correct.

Immediately, one thing was clear to him. He couldn't rely on others. So, there, that was out of the question. No one else was going to rescue Spock. Undercover missions did come with inherent risk. In his foolish impulsive state, he had been shocked at Number One's coldness. But, now he recognized, she wasn't wrong.

 

 

It was just that, Jim had never felt such fear before. Not even at his own death. Jim stopped pacing and held his head in both hands. If only the headache would let up for one freaking second!

 

This was his absolute worst moment in life, by a far margin. Not even when he thought Spock had left him, did he feel such blood curdling, sinking, dread.

Because, wherever Spock had gone to, he still existed. Somewhere in the universe, Spock existed, and that was enough for Jim to keep living.

 

 _So, now what was it going to be? Was he going to fall apart?_ Jim stood trembling, fighting a battle within himself.

 

The shrill beep made him leap, before he realized the computer's screen was blinking. Jim was unsure what to do. He was not part of the crew of the ship and was not authorized to operate anything. The screen blinked and a message flashed "Incoming StarFleet - priority one."

 

Jim took a deep breath, and squared his shoulders. He pushed the button and Number One's face appeared. Jim could have kissed her in his gratefulness.

 

"Are you ready to talk?" She asked without preamble.

 

James T. Kirk stood tall, hands behind his back, head held up high, looking ahead. "Yes. I apologize for my earlier display of behavior, Sir."

 

"Good. Sit down. Do you have any questions?" Number One seemed relieved.

"Yes, please. When did he go undercover?" Jim's voice came out calm. Apparently, he was made of tougher material, than he himself knew, till this moment.

"November one."

 

Jim calculated in his head. That was the day he drowned. The day Spock had come to his room? He suddenly remembered the weird, smooth, all over black, clothing Spock had worn. _OH!_

 

"What was his mission?" Jim inquired next.

 

"Kirk, before I go on, do you understand the nature of this call?" Number One asked.

"Yes. Absolute confidentiality. I pledge my life on it, Sir." Jim replied.

"Good. I don't have a lot of time. So, I am going to skim over the details."

 

Jim nodded.

"Spock had been investigating Cadet Finnegan's background. He discovered that Finnegan was the biological son of Vice Admiral Burke. Burke was the one who approved of the neuroparalyzer, Nerophrene, which was what you were poisoned with."

 

Jim's eyebrows went up.

 

"Yes, Spock chose not to tell you, out of good intentions. Burke was also the man, who sabotaged my own career. He is a man to fear, Kirk. He goes a long way back."

 

"I see." Jim was not really yet seeing it, though.

 

"Spock approached me, and we decided to keep a watch on both father and son. So, he coded a program to monitor the Federation space channels. On October 28th, Spock's software flagged a coded message - Nerophrene was mentioned in it."

 

Jim's astonishment kept mounting.

 

"The message alluded to an assassination attempt. Spock decrypted and traced it back to Axanar. The leader of the Axanaris was going to be killed, in an effort to halt the peace process and stop Axanar's entry into the Federation membership. The drug Nerophrene was going to be used."

 

Number One paused, giving him a moment to digest all this.

 

Jim's mind was racing, trying to piece it all together, while his emotions were threatening to burst open.

"October 28...It's Dec 31 tonight, so the assassination attempt failed?" Jim asked, proud of his ability to keep thinking rationally.

 

"Yes. When we realized what Burke was planning to do - ‘we’ meaning, Captain Pike, myself and Spock, by the way - Spock volunteered to go to Axanar and stop the assassination."

 

Jim's mouth fell open. This was worse than he had imagined.

"Why? Why, him?" He whispered.

 

"Good question. Spock had the unique advantage of being a Vulcan. Any human being, like myself or Pike, would have difficulty going undercover no matter how well we tried. The Axanari weren't expecting us humans to arrive before the peace treaty. You were the first group they were preparing to receive cordially. Also, Pike and me, are too conspicuous. Our absence would be questioned. Since we didn't know who else was involved with Burke, we couldn't approach anyone at StarFleet for help."

 

"So, by undercover, you mean, he went rogue?" Jim asked breathlessly.

 

"Yes, officially speaking, yes." Number One looked pained at the admittance.

 

"Wow. He put his everything on the line." Jim commented half to himself.

 

"Yes, Kirk. I can't express in words, the respect I hold for your friend."

 

Jim realized he was holding on the table surface so hard his knuckles had locked up. _Breathe!_ He reminded himself.

"But, he is still in StarFleet Academy, he is a Cadet. He would have been easily caught here!" Jim asked.

 

Number One looked at him approvingly.

"No one knows that. Him being the first Vulcan cadet, the knowledge is limited only to people who are currently in the Academy. Even most of our own population, outside Academy, doesn't know. The Axanari, hence, couldn't have known. We took a gamble, but we were right. Spock took on the identity of a Vulcan private businessman. He went to Vulcan from Earth, found a ride on a private ship, and built up a cover of selling electronic gadgets."

 

The magnitude of it all was slowly starting to sink in. "So, what went wrong?" Jim hadn't forgotten the reason she had initially called.

 

"I don't know." Number One showed some emotion finally. She closed her eyes, and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"He sent me daily subspace relay transmissions - heavily coded messages. The encryption algorithm was his own work and I don't believe it was hacked. He managed to successfully foil the assassination. I don't know the details."  She paused and then continued, "But then he wanted to stay back."

 

"Why?" Jim asked, alarmed. This sounded so much like Spock. Going way beyond his duty.

 

"He wanted to collect evidence. We need irrefutable proof to convict Burke and his son. Spock said he had found the terrorist Axanaris, who had been acting against their own leader. He also had found a trail linking Nerophrene to Burke. He wanted to collect the evidence and bring back here."

 

"When was this?" A thought was forming in Jim’s mind.

 

"His transmissions stopped sixteen days ago. I have tried everything, so has Pike." Number One stopped talking, and looked at him.

 

Jim couldn't speak for a few moments, because he had reached his emotional limit and a storm had exploded inside him.

 

 _What a monumental error in judgment! All this time, he thought Spock had just left him. But, the_ _stubborn ass_ _had gone on a suicide mission!! Damn him! Damn his fucking heroism! And now_ _,_ _he was missing. Presumed dead! Sixteen days!!!! Sixteen long days and nights._

 

"Give me a minute, please." He croaked out, aware of her eyes on him. This time he wasn't going to mess up with an emotional outburst. But, he just needed a minute to get his heart to stop squeezing so painfully, in his chest. He had to breathe through it several times.

 

"Take your time," she offered almost gently, after he had taken a few controlled breaths.

 

That brought him to a halt. Time was what they did NOT have.

 

"Okay...so, he was here. But, now we don't know where he is, right?"

"I have been thinking. That's _all_ I have been doing." Finally, her frustration was leaking out, too. "And my best guess, is he is still there. He has either been captured, is being held captive, or he is dead."

 

Jim closed his eyes; put his palm across his forehead. His hand was trembling.

Then, he rubbed his face with both hands and looked back at her. "I am going after him. I don't care if StarFleet rules forbid me. I am going," he declared.

 

"I was hoping you would say that."

"You were?" Jim asked, taken aback.

"Yes." She nodded.

 

Jim was stunned.

"So, I have your approval, then?" he asked cautiously.

"No," she replied firmly. "I cannot sanction this. This entire operation is rogue. You are going on your own will. But, Kirk, please, I may have lost my best Vulcan Cadet; I don't want to lose my best Human one. Don't risk yourself, unnecessarily. StarFleet needs you. With people like Burke around, we _need_ you. If Spock is dead, you can't bring him back by sacrificing your life, needlessly. Do you understand?" she asked, her eyes drilling into him.

 

Jim understood, but whether he agreed or not, was a different issue. Right now, he couldn't fathom living in a universe which had no Spock in it.

 

So, he just nodded.

 

"I am going to end this call. I am going to talk with Pike, now that you have let me know you're mounting a rescue mission. If any of this escapes and wrong ears catch wind of it, we are all screwed," she reminded him.

 

"Understood, Sir. But, I will have to get help from some people. And I will have to go by my gut feelings, as well."

Number One nodded thoughtfully.

 

"Can you take care of Commodore Bailey? He would want to know if I disappear," Jim asked.

 

"What is your gut feeling about him?" she asked.

 

Jim thought about everything he knew about the man. And, he remembered, how he had called the Axnari "brother".

 

"I trust him," Jim replied.

 

"Then, Pike and I will trust your word. We will loop him in. Don't worry about it," she replied, showing no signs of strain. Jim's respect for her grew enormously.

"When are you going to start?" She asked.

 

"Now," Jim said. Sixteen days! Every second counted now. "As soon as I change into something suitable, and ummm, I need to pack some essentials."

"Pack for...?" she asked.

"I believe he is out there." He pointed vaguely. "I mean, out of the city. They have these contained cities here. I believe Spock has managed to escape, but the planet is inhospitable outside these domes. I am going out to track him down."

 

Number One looked pensive. "You seem very certain of him being alive. I am going to trust you on that, then." She tapped her fingers on the desk. "In that case, I want you to keep me posted every six hours. Take a transmitter with you. Make sure you use a coded frequency. Take whatever you want from the ship, don't ask anyone, don't tell anyone."

 

Jim nodded, and rose. Adrenaline started flowing in his veins. She extended her hand to end the call, and asked, "Anything else?"

 

Jim suddenly realized no one else knew about Spock and him - not their personal relationship. "Why me, Sir? Why did you contact me?"

"You have Captain Pike to thank for that. Pike found out that Spock had listed you as next of kin - in his papers - and left everything to you, in the event of his death."

 

Jim made a small gasping sound.

 

"But, that's not all. He then found out you were at Axanar. You are also the smartest cadet to have passed through our doors, and, he somehow knew details about your past - you are a survivor. You have what it takes." She looked up at him.

"Good luck, James."

 

The call ended.

 

Jim's mind went on another rampage, as he broke in to a run, out of the meeting room. _Spock!! I will kill you once I find you!_

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In lucid moments, Spock knew what was happening to him. He was going into septic shock.

 

He looked down at his swollen, mottled skinned leg. Wet gangrene had set in. He hadn't been able to move his leg in - he didn't know how many hours or days. His sense of time had failed him.

 

The infection had spread through his system and was affecting his brain now. His inability to hold on to rational thought was the beginning phase of the fatal stage.

 

But even if he hadn't been attacked by the Axanari, it would have been dehydration which would still have resulted in his eventual death. Spock could survive many days without food. Even humans could. But water had become the number one reason his body was shutting down. He could no longer stand up; dizziness had claimed that from him.

 

And then, there was the air. Axanar was a Nitrogen-Methane heavy planet, with a very low percentage of oxygen in the atmosphere, lower than even Vulcan. Methane by itself wasn't the problem, but, he had been breathing it in for days now, and his organs had finally saturated. He knew he had a case of methane poisoning. His breathing was erratic and shallow. He was suffocating to death.

 

 _Kai_ _i_ _dth._ What is, is.

Spock didn't have regrets. He had made a difference. His death was not to be mourned, because his life had not been a waste. He had played his part in avoiding war, and he now hoped the rest of his peers at StarFleet would be able to bring peace.

 

In his last moments, his thoughts turned to Jim. The man who had changed Spock.

 

Spock's greatest fear had been unfounded, after all. He had not become a slave to the affection he held for Jim. No, Spock had succeeded in being the rock - he had maintained his integrity- he had been able to leave Jim. For the needs of the many outweighed the needs of the few. His duty came before his needs.

 

 

It was time for farewell, then.

 

Spock closed his eyes and thought of his father. His father had chosen a human, and maybe now Spock understood his father a bit more. _Good bye, father._

 

Spock thought of Amanda - of the quiet woman, who had left everything she knew, to make a home among aliens. Of the arms that held him when he was a child. Of the rose garden, under the Vulcan sun, where she had often told him about her childhood stories. Of her undying love for him. Never wavering. _Good bye, mother. You would be proud of me._

He thought of his _Sehlat_ \- his first friend, his constant companion, of his warm soft body as Spock had rested on the beast, staring up into the sky, on so many nights on Vulcan. _Good bye, my dear friend._

Of his brother _\- Good bye, Sybok, my brother - you taught me more than you know._

Spock thought of his planet - so similar to the one he was at now. He derived some satisfaction, in touching the hot dry sand beneath his fingers.

 

And then it was time for the final farewell. To Jim - his t'hy'la - his destiny.

Spock hoped Jim would understand, someday, that he had kept his promise - that he never left Jim's side till his dying breath. He was separated only by duty, not by choice.

 

As long as he would breathe, he would yearn for the touch of a human with a heart so big, and passion so radiant, it rivaled any sun.

As long as his _katra_ lived, he would remember Jim.

 

Spock smiled. The creatures, which had been waiting patiently, were hungry. His body would feed them. That would be his last act, and he found peace in that thought.

 

As the morning sun climbed and the oppressive heat began to beat down on his broken body, he laid motionless, eyes closed, shallow and erratic breaths escaping him.

 

_Jim._

_Jim._

_Jim._

 

His mind kept broadcasting like a beacon left adrift in space.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The people of Axanar apparently preferred a nitrogen-methane atmosphere. (ENT: "Fight or Flight"). So, the methane part is canon, and I tried my best to work it in this story.


	39. Peace warriors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't apologize for the long delays in posting the last couple of updates. Coz I know you all will understand when I say it's been a little crazy :)  
> But future updates should be more regular.
> 
> Also, my Beta and I both have time-constraints, which means unfortunately,the rest of my work is going to be unbeta'd. So, I apologize in advance, for the massacre of the English language at my hands! If you find any glaring errors, please tell me.
> 
> Thank you for sticking with me!!! SO much!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jim's hands were trying to keep up with his racing brain.

 

_Light-sticks._

_Blankets._

_First Aid Kit._

_Food packets._

He found each item from the ship's supply room, and tossed it haphazardly into a small bag.

 

He had to be prepared as much as possible for whatever state Spock may be in. Jim turned around and ran out of the supplies room and went straight to the med bay. He was deeply relieved that the ship was almost empty of people. The lights were dim, so it must be night on the ship as well. He found a tricorder and tossed it in.

 

_Pain killer – both human and non-human._

_Sedative._

_Antibiotics hypos._

Finally, he went hunting for a transmitter and found one.

 

Back to the transporter room, his loot with him, Jim found the room empty. He quickly punched in the co-ordinates and transported himself down. The transporter log would of course show his departure. There would be a lot of explaining to do later - grand theft being the least of his concerns. All that didn't matter right now.

 

For a change, Lady Luck was being his companion tonight. He found his Axanar guide loitering near their guest quarters, even though it was an ungodly hour at night. The city was deserted, pale yellow light streaming in from the ‘dome' sky.

 

Over the course of the past several days, he and his guide, whom he had nicknamed Bumbles, in his mind, had become more friendly. Though it was really weird to be friends with a two hundred year old being. Even more shockingly, his guide was not even old by Axanari standards. Jim had learned that they lived four hundred years or more.

 

"Do you know the female with -" Jim made some hand movements, trying to show the unusual hair style she had. "She was at the meeting. She has a kid?” he asked.

 

"Yes," Bumbles replied, perplexed.

 

"Take me to her," Jim commanded.

 

Bumbles looked at Jim with an expression of shock on his face.

"No!" he objected, looking at Jim up and down, as if to check ~~,~~ was this the same Human who had left to go to the ship less than an hour ago.

 

"Well, then I am going to start knocking on doors, till I find her." Jim started walking rapidly, the satchel on his back. He had no clue in which direction the underground shelters were. But, he was determined.

 

"Ohisbaaa! Ghiiiila! Ggggai!" Bumbles gesticulated wildly at Jim, trying to keep up with Jim's half-run.

 

The universal translator was probably not equipped for whatever Bumbles was throwing at him. "You can curse me all you want. I am going." Jim didn't slow down one bit.

 

"Stop! Stop! Wait. You cannot go there. It is prohibited."

"I don't have a choice."

"It is resting time. To visit at this time is Vishahakaaa!!" Bumbles was shouting now, still running alongside Jim.

"I am not going for any Vishahaakaa, I just need her help, okay?" Jim stopped abruptly, and turned to face Bumbles. "You have been with me, you have observed me. Do I look like a man wanting to do Vishahaakaa?"

"Then why do you go now? Why not wait till the light comes out?" Bumbles looked extremely concerned.

"I don't have time, and I will only talk to her." Jim replied firmly, and restarted walking towards wherever he thought he was going.

 

Bumbles muttered some more, but didn't leave Jim's side.

"Come with me."

 

_Finally!_

The Axanari looked very unhappy, and Jim guessed Bumbles was probably risking his neck for Jim. But, as he had explained to Number One, his instincts were all that he had right now. Jim had felt good about Bumbles from day one. Despite their differences, Jim's intuition told him that the guy was clean at heart.

 

Bumbles suddenly broke into a smooth run, moving with startling speed.

"Wait! My legs don't move like that!" Jim shouted after him.

"Do not raise your voice!" Bumbles hissed. But thankfully, Bumbles slowed down.

"Okay!" Jim whispered back, running full speed.

 

Bumbles took him into a part of the city Jim had never been to, during their tours. The farther away they went from the guest quarters, the quieter and darker it became. Jim realized he had probably been staying in the heart of the place - like a downtown area.

 

If the Axanari changed his mind at this point, or if Jim had misjudged his character, no one would ever know. Spock must have felt the same fear, living alone, in a completely alien world, surrounded by no one he could trust.

 

They came upon an obelisk shaped structure. It stood at least twenty meters tall. Bumbles operated the keypad like mechanism at the entrance, and an opening appeared. Jim stepped inside with Bumbles, and the entrance closed behind them. They were standing on a platform, with a transparent glass-like floor. When Jim looked down, he couldn't see the bottom. There was just an unending, dark, chasm under his feet. Jim swallowed.

 

"Stand on this blue square." Bumbles instructed and Jim obeyed. Bumbles took position on a red square next to him.

 

"Down," Bumbles spoke aloud and the next instant Jim's stomach flew into his mouth, as he was plunged down at tremendous speed. He would have shouted in terror, if he could, but he had been rendered immobile with the pressure of being hurtled down.

 

In a few moments, they came to a jarring stop. Jim stood motionless for a second, unsure if his body was still in one piece. He looked down cautiously. He was still standing on the blue square, but there was solid ground under his feet, this time. He looked up - empty space stretched above him.

 

"Okay. Okay. That was, umm, not bad," Jim breathed, lying through his teeth.

"You insisted on coming here." Bumbles was already moving.

"Yes. Thank you for your help." With shaky legs, Jim followed.

 

Bumbles took him few steps away from where they had been thrown down. Several box-like structures were lined up. Bumbles went to the first one, and opened a door. Jim found himself inside a tiny windowless room, with cushions along the walls, on the floor.

 

"Sit." Bumbles told him. Then, he hesitated and added, "Hold to the pillow, tightly."

"Uh-oh," Jim was alarmed.

 

"Go. Unit Tokla-Pha." Bumbles spoke aloud. This time, though Jim already suspected what was about to happen, he was still underprepared for the effect of being plastered to the wall, as the thing shot off from stationary to maximum speed in an instant.

 

Jim held on for dear life.

 

The same bones-rattling stopping experience repeated, as they reached their destination. Bumbles wasted no time debarking. Jim guessed he was trying to avoid running into anyone. It was still night. Or, probably very early morning.

 

The so-called underground shelter, was basically a whole city, just like above. The only difference being, there were rows after rows of houses, no other kinds of buildings. There were blue lakes, in between, and the "roof" of the entire place was high enough, that it didn't feel like some cramped cave.

 

Bumbles stood nervously in front of one of the round dome shaped houses. He pressed his hand to an electronic-looking pad on the wall. After few minutes of tense wait, a portion of the smooth exterior wall receded into a rectangular opening, large enough to be a wide doorway, but a little short in height. Bumbles ducked in.

"Come." He motioned to Jim.

 

Jim followed, suddenly feeling very nervous. He had come this far, acting on his instinct alone. But, now everything depended on what was going to happen next.

 

The Axanari female stood inside the circular room. Bumbles bowed, spoke so rapidly to her that the universal translator produced gibberish, and then Bumbles left.

 

As soon as they were alone, she produced a flat shape in her hand, and then with a flick of hand, it unfurled into a multi-pronged weapon - the menacing curved edges glinting in the light.

"If you touch my child, I will spill your stomach open." She waved the weapon at him, her whole body rigid.

 

Jim commanded himself to relax. This was the crucial moment and he forced himself to let his training take over. Then, very slowly, he raised both his hands, palms facing her, showing her they were empty. "I come in peace." Jim said.

 

"Why are you here?" Her stance didn't change.

"I need your help." Jim replied, hands still raised.

"Why should I help you?" She asked.

"Because, you called me your human-brother." Jim was walking on thin ice, but it was all he had.

 

"I have seen brothers turn into monsters."

 

Jim took a deep breath.

"So have I." He replied.

 

The first sign of emotion flickered across her face.

 

"You said the cruel prey on the orphans." Jim spoke calmly, but it was taking some effort.

He took another steadying breath.

"I know of the cruel. I am a child of the war too. A long time ago, on a different planet, I was preyed upon. I will not touch your child. I will protect him with my life." Jim's voice shook, as he spoke of his deepest secrets, in spite of his effort to stay unemotional.

 

She studied him intently. Then, she lowered her weapon finally. "You can bring your hands down."

 

Jim did so.

 

"How old are you?" She asked.

"Nineteen earth years."

"You are still a child! I am one hundred and twenty two earth years." Her voice was softer.

 

"Please. I need your help. Urgently," Jim was getting used to the crazy age difference.

"Tell me your story." She put the weapon inside her waist belt, and motioned him to sit down, on the side of the room, which was covered in fluffy sheets and pillow like cushions.

 

Jim told the bare-bones version, skipping over as much as he could. She listened attentively.  When he came to the part that Spock was Vulcan, her hands flew to her mouth. Jim paused, tensing up.

"Your friend is the Vulcan merchant?" She asked in a voice that seemed to be higher-pitched than usual.

 

Jim nodded.

 

"What is the meaning of shaking head?"

"Sorry. I mean yes, yes, he is the friend." Jim clarified.

 

She looked at him with an expression, which Jim didn't how to decipher. He waited, unsure of what she knew, but sure that she knew _something._

 

"He left the planet. It has been many days." She said slowly.

 

Jim shook his head.

 

"You are saying, yes, again?" She asked

"No! I am sorry. This shaking means no. He hasn't left. He is out there, and he is in very bad shape. I have to go find him, immediately." Jim tried to inject the urgency into his voice.

 

"You wish to go out, alone?"

"Yes."

"You will die." She folded her hands on her lap.

"It is a risk I will take." Jim was getting desperate now. Every second mattered.

"No." She replied.

"No?"

"No. I cannot help. It is not a good risk to take."

 

Jim felt his blood turning cold.

"Listen, I can’t ask anyone else. You spoke of peace and you hate war like me .I can’t trust anyone except you - please, I am begging you." Jim pleaded.

 

"It is not a matter of trust, brother. I believe you. It is simply not wise."

"If you believe me, then just show me the way out." Jim implored.

 

"No, you will die out there. No one survives." She stood up.

 

"Don't tell me that!" Jim exploded. "Don't tell me, no one survives."

 

She looked taken aback at his outburst.

"Why do you want to die for a Vulcan?"

 

Jim threw up his hands. "Why does it matter that he is a Vulcan? You don't know what he has done. He believes in peace like you and me, and he was ready die for this peace." Jim was close to tears. He couldn't contain himself any longer. Frustration, dread and helplessness washed over him in waves.

 

She looked at him in surprise, blinking rapidly several times.

"He is your mate?"

 

"Yes," Jim whispered. There, in that alien house, alone and away from everyone he knew, Jim had nothing left to hide, and everything he _had_ left, was on stake.

 

She stood up with a jump and dissolved into a blur of movements. "Wait here," and then she disappeared into an interior room.

When she re-emerged, she was holding several items in her hands. She dropped them down on the floor next to him. "You will need those."

 

She walked over to the wall on the other side, and started touching as if there were invisible buttons.

 

Jim slid his satchel down his back and picked up the items. "What are these?" He asked as he looked at each.

 

"The black rod produces a light which scares the predators outside. The blue round disk takes atmosphere and converts to oxygen. You will need it. Outside is very low in oxygen and very high in methane." She finished punching the buttons as she spoke.

 

"How do you have all this stuff?" Jim was overcome by curiosity.

"I am a soldier." She replied, without turning, from her position at the wall. "A special kind of solider," She added.

 

Jim thanked the stars that this was the night that luck had chosen to be him. She was clearly, not an ordinary Axanari. She seemed to know something about Spock. Jim was beginning to think she was part of some elite anti-terrorist group, aware of things the ordinary Axanari wasn't.

 

"Do you have a flame thrower?"

 

"A phaser you mean? Yup, I do." Jim replied.

 

"Do not use it. The methane will create a heat ball if you use any flames." She turned towards him.

 

"Oh. That's not how a phaser -"

"Do you understand?" Her eyes were on him.

"Okay, yes, thank you." He replied.

 

The smooth wall behind her suddenly glowed and a rectangular screen appeared. Then, some script scrolled across the newly formed screen. She read it and turned towards him.

"I am going to get a water generator. Mine is damaged and does not function. You will wait here. Do not let anyone inside and do not go outside. Do you understand?" She asked again.

 

"Yes." Jim's eyebrows rose up at all the technology she was referring to.

 

She left in a hurry, without another word; clearly realizing that time was of essence. He was grateful he didn't have to remind her. She was moving faster than him, in fact.

 

Jim sat alone, feeling awkward, with this satchel on his side. He calculated that approximately 90 minutes had passed since he spoke to Number One. He also realized, suddenly, that the headache which had been the bane of his existence had gone away completely, sometime during the night. The screen she had been working at, on the wall, had vanished. He stared at the smooth wall in its place now.

 

"Ouch!" Jim yelped, as a chunk of his hair was pulled from behind. He turned around in alarm. Huge eyes stared back at him.

 

"Oh. Umm, hello." Jim smiled tentatively.

The Axanari standing in front of him was around Jim's eye level. A hand extended towards his scalp again.

Jim leaned away quickly. "No. That is not good manners. It hurts me."

 

"Your hair glows." A squeaky voice came out of the child.

Jim couldn't stop himself from grinning. "Does it?"

"Your eyes glow too."

"What about my teeth?" Jim pulled his lips apart and bared his teeth.

The child looked studiously for some time.

 

Jim closed his lips and smiled.

"My teeth doesn't glow?"

 

"No. Your teeth are not good."

 

Jim burst out laughing.

 

A cackling sound came from the mini Axanari. Was it laughing too?

"Are you boy or girl?" Jim asked.

 

"I have not chosen yet."

"Oh?! You can choose that?" This was news to Jim. How had he missed this piece of information in his briefings?

"You can _not_ choose?" The child seems equally surprised.

 

"We can, kind of -" Jim started explaining.

 

"What are you?"

"A boy," Jim smiled.

"Is that why you wear animals?" The little one, pointed to Jim's chest.

 

Jim looked down at himself and burst into laughter again.

"This is, ummm, we wear this for sleeping. This animal is called a Reindeer. It lives on Earth. In very, very cold places. And this, is a pine tree. I wear different clothes actually. Roaming around in winter pajamas is not exactly helping my image, I see now."

"What's your mother's name?" Jim asked.

 

The kid replied with a completely foreign sounding answer. Jim sighed.

"I can't say that. I think I will call her Xena. And you Xena junior."

 

Another cackling sound. Xena Jr. seemed to find this very funny.

 

Just then, Xena burst through the door. "I have obtained it." She reported.

 

Then, she scooped her kid into her arms and vanished inside. Within a minute, she was back, clad in head to toe, in soft cotton like fabric, and so was Xena Jr.  She threw a bundle at him and said, "Put your body into this."

 

Jim caught the clothes she had tossed. It was the exact same kind, what she was wearing. Jim's suspicion was right. They were an androgynous species. Clad in these clothes, she didn't look much different than Bumbles now, except that hairstyle.

 

He waited for her to give him privacy, but she was staring at him impatiently.

 

"Okay." Jim swallowed. He stripped himself down and Xena made no effort to look away. From behind her leg, Xena Jr. peeked. Both of them gawked at him, while he hurriedly changed into the desert-friendly robes and put on the rugged boots she had given.

 

"What about your child?" Jim pointed at his little friend.

"What about my child?"

"Who will take care of him while you take me to the exits?" Jim asked.

 

Xena was already moving. Jim followed her out of the house.

"I take care of him. We are going together. And I am coming with you outside." She replied.

 

"What! Are you out of your mind?" Jim was shocked.

 

Xena looked confused.

 

"I mean, I can’t have you come with me. This is my personal mission. And you can’t take your child, surely? As you said, it is dangerous, right?" Jim asked.

 

"We live together. We die together." She was looking down at the long path, expectantly. "Your mate helped my people. He is a peace-warrior. This is my personal mission too, now." A box-car thingy was speeding towards them, flying through the air.

 

_So, she knew about Spock. Did she also know about the assassination?_

 

"Get inside." The box-car stopped and Jim resigned himself to the crazy ride.

"You can’t tell anyone about me. About this, whatever we are about to do." Jim suddenly remembered to clarify.

"I know. I understand now, that you are a peace-warrior too." She replied, just as their transport burst into warp-like speed.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Xena junior was on her back, in some kind of baby-wear like cloth sack, strapped tightly like a baby monkey. All three of them were on the surface inside one of the exits. The city of Borkahm had four exits, one in each direction. When asked which one he wanted to go through, Jim had chosen the direction, he "felt" was correct.

 

"When we step out, the predators will be waiting. They are afraid of light. Use your weapon-rod. I will fight them, so you can escape. Do you understand?" Xena asked, while they crawled through a duct.

 

"I am really not comfortable with your child out there. Please. I know you think I am a child too, but on Earth, I am not. I know what I am doing." Jim crawled behind her on all fours. They were using some ventilation system, is what Jim guessed. No one went outside on foot, Xena had explained. The Axanari used those special transports to fly between the different mushroom-cities. But, the transports were monitored and tracked. So, she couldn't risk one for Jim, plus he didn't know where Spock was.

 

"Then, you must trust _me_ , brother. I am a mother and a soldier. I know what I am doing." Her voice never wavered.

 

Jim was wearing the oxygen generating device on his chest, which Xena had helped him with. The light-wand thing in one hand, and his other hand free, his pulse raced as they reached the duct-end. Xena explained rapidly, how they will exit.

 

"Turn on your light." Xena commanded before they exited.

 

Jim's feet landed on the sandy, hard land. He was unprepared for the hot, dry air outside. It was such a stark contrast from the inside the city. But, his thoughts about the environment stopped cold, when he saw the dark forms of the creatures. There were so many! Their sharp claws and teeth were a terrifying sight. For a moment, fear paralyzed Jim, and his skin crawled.

 

A gasping sound came from Xena's back.

"Hang in there, buddy," Jim whispered to Xena Jr.

 

Xena had two of the light sticks, one in each of her hands.

"Do you know where you will go?" She spoke quietly, as they stood shoulder to shoulder, facing the monsters, who were keeping their distance, but had started forming a ring around them.

 

"Yes, I hear him in my head." Jim had given up all pretense of sanity. He pointed to the east. "And my tricorder will pick his signal when I get close enough."

 

"Good. Stay here." She spoke quietly again.

 

Then, to Jim's horror, with her child on her back, she started walking, towards the west, both hands held high, the light casting eerily around mother and child, in a protective circle.

The creatures started following her, just outside the ring of light. Jim understood what she was doing, and saluted her in his mind.

 

After few more seconds, as she put distance between them - the entire pack now following her, away from Jim - her voice floated back to him, "Go! May peace be with you, brother."

 

"I will _never_ forget you both. Thank you." Jim replied in a choked voice, as he broke into a desperate run in the opposite direction, the light stick in one hand, and tricorder in another. He didn't look back, just kept running, feet kicking up bursts of sand into the air. The yellow moonlight was enough to navigate through the unending stretch of barren land, littered with sand dunes, in every direction.

 

Within five minutes, his tricorder started beeping. Jim's heart leaped into his mouth. He slowed down and adjusted the dial. The device took him towards the north-east, and after another couple of minutes, the beeping intensified into a shrill. Jim looked around wildly; there was no one to be seen. He took a few steps towards north-west and the beeping decreased. He retraced his steps back, till he stood at a point where the device let out a continuous long wail. Jim looked down carefully, trying to keep his calm, though his heart was pounding like a wild animal.

 

He saw it then. In the dim light, he had missed it, earlier. But, there were dark marks on the sand. He bent down and touched it with his hand. The tricorder showed composition of Vulcan blood. _Shit!_ Jim looked up from his kneeling position, and realized there was a trail of the marks leading further away. Refusing to let himself think about what it meant, he started running again, this time both tricorder and his eyes, giving him a clear path to follow.

 

He ran straight for two hours, sweat pouring down his entire body, his lungs on fire, stopping every now and then to drink water from Xena’s miracle device. Sometime, later, he saw dawn breaking over the horizon. Xena had warned him that the day time temperatures climbed dangerously. Jim didn't want to make this decision. He didn't want to stop but he also recognized he was of no use, if he ran himself to his death. But, the voice - for lack of a better term - was getting clearer in his head.

 

Jim came to a halt. He wiped his sweaty hands on his robes, and gulped down more water. Then, he spent some time fiddling with the tricorder. Jim hadn't had much training on usage of a tricorder; it was for advanced courses at the Academy. But, his instincts were screaming that he was very near.

 

He finally managed to calculate the distance between him and the source of life-sign that the device was picking up on - 2.43 kms towards North East.

 

Jim started running again. The planet's sunlight was starting to burn into his skin. There was a sand dune ahead of him, and as he neared it, minute by minute, he knew, just knew, Spock was on the other side. He was exhausted, but he kept going, his legs starting to stumble now.

 

As he circled around the base of the mountain of sand, his eyes fell on the lump, covered in sand and green blood. It wasn't moving and Jim's face scrunched up in confusion at the grotesque limb he could make out, from the distance.

 

Jim came crashing down by Spock's side, his stiff legs not able to slow down gracefully.

 

 And then, the stench hit him! Jim gagged. He stuffed a piece of the robe over his nose, fighting the urge to dry heave. Spock was absolutely still. Jim felt nauseated, as he looked at the emancipated form, bones sticking out, and the skin dry and lifeless.

 

_Spock!_

Images of starved bodies from his past flew by his eyes. _Oh! Spock!_

Jim fumbled with this satchel’s opening, his hands trembling with shock, and found the hypos and medical supplies. Whimpering and gagging, in turns, he managed to stick in two hypos. Sweat mixed with the falling tears on his face.

 

Jim turned on transmitter and connected to the ship. If Number One had not been able to get Commodore Bailey on their side by now, all was lost.

 

The connection went through and the Commodore himself answered.

 

"Sir, I have Spock with me. He needs emergency medical aid right NOW." Jim shouted in desperation.

"Stand by. We are beaming you up."

 

Jim and the crumpled form of Spock materialized on the ship. The transporter technician was absent. The Commodore himself was at the transporter controls. Waiting next to him was Dr. Muamba and a blonde man with an anti-grav stretcher.

 

They all managed to put Spock on the stretcher and Dr. Muamba led them on a run to med bay. Jim's legs were buckling under him. He couldn't stop shaking.

 

"He is a Vulcan!" The doctor exclaimed as soon Spock had been transferred to the bio-bed. "No one told me the patient will be a Vulcan!"

The blonde man was hooking up Spock to various machines.

"I don't know if I can do anything at this point, Sir. He is almost dead." Dr. Muamba looked at Commodore Bailey, who like Jim, was fighting the gag reflex.

 

Jim went berserk. "Don't say you don't know!" He grasped the doctor by his shoulders and violently shook the man. "Don't you dare say you can't do anything! SAVE HIM!" Jim yelled. Dr. Muamba's stared at Jim with wide eyes.

 

"Son, you are not helping." The Commodore put hands around Jim's torso and pulled him away. "The doctor will save him. You need to calm down." The steady voice was soothing and authoritative. Jim's brain responded to the authority.

 

So did Dr. Muamba. He turned to Spock and he was no longer the frantic man of a few moments ago, instead, the calm, businesslike persona came back.

 

Bailey released Jim, and looked at him questioningly. "Are you okay, son?"

 

"Sorry, Sir," Jim nodded. "Sorry, Doctor."

 

"Let them work." The Commodore took Jim by the elbow, and walked to the far side of the med-bay. "Are you hurt?"

"No, Sir. I am just - just- I am tired. And I am - I can't - lose him." Jim collapsed into the chair by the medical officer's desk, hiding his face in both hands.

"I am proud of you, James. You did good. Very good. The Federation and we all owe you, son. And Spock." The older man patted Jim's head.

Jim started crying quietly into his hands. He put his head down on the desk and let everything out, burying his face into his forearms, weeping uncontrollably.

 

The Commodore gently patted his hair, and murmured, "It's okay, you are safe now. He is safe. You did good. It's okay."

 

His sobs were drowned out by the voices of the two men, who were bent over Spock's body.

 

"I need help." Dr. Muamba's voice rang out. Jim looked up.

 

"Yes, Doctor?" The Commodore asked.

 

"I need someone to log into the medical computer. I need information on Vulcan anatomy."

 

Jim eagerly replied, "Let me, please." The Commodore nodded.

 

"Sir, I need an extra pair of hands to hold him down." Dr. Muamba spoke again.

 

With Bailey and the two men, operating on Spock, Jim started going through the medical database. He read out facts and numbers, as Dr. Muamba asked question after question. The Doctor sounded more and more confident, after each answer that Jim supplied. Then, there was silence again, and Jim slumped back onto the desk.

 

He must have dozed off, exhausted and drained, when he heard the loud voice of the doctor.

 

"This is going to be a long day, James. Go, eat, drink plenty of fluids, there is a rehydration kit in that cupboard. I want you to change and clean yourself up, and then, sleep." Dr. Muamba was still by Spock's bio-bed. But, things looked calmer. The Commodore had left the room, sometime during Jim's quasi-sleep state.

 

Jim sat up.

"As the CMO of this ship, that is an order, Cadet." The Doctor continued, clearly knowing Jim well by now, having been roommates for last few weeks.

 

Jim stood up and walked to the bio-bed. Spock's leg was inside a machine. The smell of death had gone.

 

"Who are you?" Jim asked the blonde technician.

"Andreas, I am Dr. Muamba's assistant."

"Don't worry, he knows." Dr. Muamba spoke up, his eyes fixed on Spock, hands moving.

"You won't tell anyone, anything, right?" Jim asked.

"No, Sir. Dr. Muamba knows me since I was a kid. Please, don't worry. We understand. His presence is confidential. No one on the ship will be told." Andreas replied.

 

Jim liked the man. He had been competent, and unlike Jim, had kept his cool.

 

"Will you tell me when he wakes up?" Jim asked.

"As if I can keep that from you," the doctor replied, looking at Jim and smiling. Jim felt relief flow like cool water in his blood. The doctor looked much relaxed now. If he was smiling, Spock had to be out of crisis.

 

With tired legs, still clad in sandy robes, and dusty boots, Jim dragged himself out of the med-bay, hydration kit in hand.


	40. Allowances

2253.1, Aboard Starship USS Gandhi,

In orbit around Axanar.

1530 hours. Jan 1st.

 

 

Jim woke up with a start. After a brief moment of disorientation, he realized his comm was beeping. He had been sleeping like Dr. Muamba had ordered him to, and looked like he had slept through the entire morning and afternoon. He read the message. Dr. Muamba wanted him in med-bay a.s.a.p. Jim leapt out of his bunk and ran pell-mell to the medical wing.

 

"What's wrong?" He blurted out, as soon as he entered the room.

Dr. Muamba was standing with one hand on his waist, and with the other rubbing his chin.

 

"Calm down, and come here." The Doctor seemed calm himself, which helped Jim relax.

 

Jim went and stood beside his roommate. Spock looked the same as he had last seen him. A bit cleaner though. They had wiped off the layers of grime and blood off him.

But, his eyes were closed and his bony frame lay still on the bed.

 

Dr. Muamba tapped on a screen in front of them.

"See that pipe like structure?" he asked.

"Yes," Jim's replied, eyebrows knotted.

"That's his esophagus - the food pipe. And this small dot is a computer microchip."

"What!" Jim gasped.

"Yup. Do you have any idea, why he would swallow a computer chip?"

 

Jim stood staring at the screen. He was horrified.

"I may have some idea. I can't tell you, sorry."

 

Dr. Muamba sighed. "Well, how important is it? It seems to have lodged in the tissue, instead of passing down to stomach. I need to heal the laceration but given his condition, I am not sure what kind of surgery he can withstand. I was thinking of burning the chip with a laser-beam, which would be least invasive."

 

"The chip is very important. We need it un-damaged."

 

"That would mean I have to risk a more invasive procedure," Dr. Muamba commented.

 

"Yes," Jim replied in a small voice. _Damn you, Spock!_

 

"Okay, I will get on with it then. How are you holding up?" Dr. Muamba and Andreas started getting busy. Jim looked at them, then. They both looked exhausted. They had been on their feet, working non-stop, the entire day.

 

"I am good, Sir. What can I do for you? Do you need food or coffee or anything?" Jim asked.

 

"Coffee would be appreciated, James. Andreas?" The Doctor looked at his young assistant.

 

"I could use a sandwich. And coffee, yes," Andreas replied gratefully.

 

"Sandwich for me too," Dr. Muamba added, his head bowed in concentration over Spock.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

2253.1, Aboard Starship USS Gandhi,

In orbit around Axanar.

0830 hours. Jan 5th.

 

 

Jim was sitting across the table from Commodore Bailey in the Captain's quarters.

"I have given you sufficient time I hope, to recover from the rescue mission. Dr. Muamba says you are healthy."

 

"Yes, Sir. I am good," Jim replied, sitting erect.

"He also tells me you are spending your days in the room where your friend is recuperating."

"I - I just thought, he may want a friendly presence. My best friend is a Doctor and he says people in coma can sometimes sense others." Jim was feeling a little defensive.

"I can understand wanting to help your friend. But, I need you back at the meetings. After your speech that day, you have gained quite a following, and the Axanaris would like you to be present."

 

Jim felt torn. It was true that he had taken to studying in the room Spock had been put in. Sometimes, he just sat and stared at the Vulcan, a million thoughts and emotions running through him. If he could, he would even sleep there.

 

"Of course, Sir. I will honor my duty." Spock had chosen duty above everything else. Least Jim could do, was learn from his Vulcan hero. Spock would be disappointed in him, if he let his heart keep him from attending the meetings.

 

"Excellent. I will see you soon, down at the planet," Commodore Bailey smiled at him. Jim tried to return the expression, stood up and exited the Captain's quarters.

 

 

* * *

 

 

2253.1, Aboard Starship USS Gandhi,

In orbit around Axanar.

0130 hours. Jan 14th.

 

 

 

Like a bubble floating up to the surface, Spock's consciousness rose, and he was aware of the exact instant, that he became fully conscious. He kept his eyes closed, as his other senses adjusted to the increased stimuli. His sharp hearing picked up every instrument beeping around him, the low thrum in the air, the rustling of the sheets as he moved a finger to test his body. His sense of touch told him he was on a soft, comfortable and warm bed. There was no rough, hot, sand beneath his palms. He couldn't smell the creatures, and most importantly he couldn't smell the foul stench from his leg.

 

Spock moved his leg and the limb obeyed his brain. His eyes fluttered open and took in the surroundings. He had seen Jim in similar environment, but had never imagined he would himself one day wind up there. He studied the Renaissance painting hanging opposite his bio-bed. He was in a small room, clearly a medical facility, though, his deductive logic was failing him right now. How could he be anywhere as safe and whole as this environment, when the last of his memory was of Axanar's barren land.

 

He craned up his neck to read his vitals from the screens above his head. He had lost significant amount of body weight. His immune system also seemed severely compromised. Spock slowly removed the soft blanket covering his body and looked down. His leg seemed normal. In fact, all of his limbs were fully functional.

 

Spock was contemplating, if getting out of his bed to explore, would be a wise move or not, when he heard the sound of footsteps. They sounded vaguely familiar. The bond twitched violently. With a gasp, Spock checked his shields, and found his mind was completely open and his shields non-existent. Probably a result of his near-death experience. Why was his bond throbbing? Surely, it couldn't be....

 

Spock heard the doors outside his room open, then someone stepped in, and hesitated for a second outside of Spock's tiny room. By now, Spock could smell him.

 

_Jim! How could Jim be here?!_

And then, the man opened the door. Their eyes met and everything fell out of focus, except those eyes, set in a face Spock had bid farewell to. Jim stood silently.

 

Spock jumped out of his bed, ran to the man and took him in his arms. _Jim. My Jim._  

 

The scene played out in Spock's mind like a dream.

 

In reality, he didn't have the courage to do anything. He had faced all his enemies, sentient and non-sentient, with no fear. But, now, paralyzing terror gripped him. The last time they had met, months ago, Jim had left him, in bitter anger, closing the door on his face. Spock didn't know where he stood now. When it came to Jim, all his virtues failed him - his logic, his courage, his strength. Instead, he felt so vulnerable and so scared, at the mercy of his human.

 

Fifteen point six minutes had passed. Spock's internal chronometer was working again.

 

Jim had not moved, had not spoken - and most chillingly, he hadn't smiled. Spock desperately wanted Jim to come to him, to touch him, to take him as passionately as Jim had done that night. Jim's touch was his salvation. He had gone without it for so, so long. The need to be touched overwhelmed him, but silence stretched on between them - a huge chasm - and they stood on either side. Looking at each other.

 

Spock's hearing picked up a second set of footsteps - these ones sounded new. A heavy-set man with black curled hair burst through the med-bay doors and then rushed past Jim, through the doorway.

 

"Mr. Spock! " The man exclaimed.

"Doctor?" Spock's voice came out hoarse, sounding nothing like himself. Spock's face betrayed his own surprise.

"Your throat is still healing, Mr. Spock. Your voice will return to normal in a few days." The Doctor smiled at him. Spock was relieved. So, wherever he was, at least the others, didn't seem to resent him. 

"I see," Spock replied. He had many questions, but he sensed the Doctor had to ask first.

"How are you feeling?" Spock saw no name tag, as the man was dressed in his sleepwear. It was night, apparently.

 

Spock's eyes strayed to Jim and he noticed this time, Jim was dressed similarly. He also noticed, Jim seemed leaner, his face looked less boyish, his cheekbones more prominent. The bulge of his biceps stood out, from beneath the fabric of his sleepwear.

 

The Doctor picked up his lapse in concentration, and turned towards Jim.

"James, I am going to get to you later. There must be some regulation I am sure, which says, not waking up the patient's Doctor, is a felony." 

"I am sure, Sir, there is none." Spock couldn't help himself. Jim was no felon.

"Oh? Do you have the entire regulation book memorized?" The man turned back to Spock.

"I do," Spock replied, in his new raspy voice.

 

The man looked at him with a mix of sarcasm and shock. "James, I see now, why you are friends with this guy. You are a stack of books with legs, and he seems to be a giant encyclopedia himself." The Doctor now checking Spock.

 

Spock's eyes betrayed him again, and he looked at Jim, who still showed no inclination to move any closer. But, at least Jim was still staring at him, relentlessly, but with a closed expression. Spock felt the panic returning. If Jim wouldn't cross the chasm, Spock would be lost. He didn't know how to reach out to Jim. He had never been good at such skills. It had always been Jim, who had made the first move.

_You look good in that jacket._

_It's a surprise._

_Spock, do you like it?_

_I want to take you there someday. Will you come?_

_I will miss you, though._

 It had always been Jim who had extended his hand, and Spock had followed. Now, Jim wasn't coming near, and Spock didn't know what to do.

 

"Well, you look to be recovering well. Not fully healthy yet, but that's to be expected after what state you were in. Amazing Vulcan metabolism. Actually, I have many questions for you, on that topic, but those can wait. Do _you_ have any questions for me, young man?" The Doctor smiled again.

 

Spock forced his eyes to focus back on the kind human.

"Yes, Sir. Where am I? And your identity?"

"You are on StarFleet's Ambassador-class starship, the USS Gandhi. I am  Dr. Fabrice Muamba, the CMO. This is my office which has been turned into a makeshift recovery room. We are in orbit around the planet Axanar, where the historic peace treaty is ongoing. You were rescued by this silent man here, from the planet below, in the worst condition I have ever seen anyone in. The rest...well, I am not cleared to know. I will admit though, I am very curious, but the Commodore is very firm, that my orders are to see to your complete recovery and seclusion. No one aboard this ship, except the Commodore, I, my assistant and this young friend of yours, knows about your presence." Dr. Muamba finished.

 

"Thank you, Doctor. I am grateful." Spock replied. _How and why was Jim here, and how did Jim find him?_

"Now that you are awake, I will check on you every six hours. I will come back in the morning. If you need anything, just page me - here press this button, okay?"

Spock nodded.

"A lot of your systems are in delicate stages of recovery. For now, you are on complete bed rest. Can I trust Vulcans to be obedient patients?"

"Yes, Sir." Spock wasn't going anywhere.

"Excellent. I will leave you to rest now." The Doctor patted him softly on the shoulders, turned around, and sauntered over to Jim.

 

"I have some questions for you, primary being, why the hell did you not wake me up, when you must have seen my pager beep? Instead, you just shot off, and came here all by yourself?" Dr. Muamba shook a finger at Jim. "Come, let's go back to our room." The Doctor put a hand around Jim's shoulders.

 

Spock heard the words "our room" and saw the arm around Jim - and before his prefrontal cortex had time to process - the monitors started beeping wildly.

Dr. Muamba turned in alarm and rushed to Spock. "What's happening?" He looked at the monitors and at Spock, back and forth, puzzled and concerned. Spock felt acute embarrassment. He looked down at his hands, and tried to get himself under control. This was so unbecoming of a Vulcan.

 

"It is not a medical concern, Doctor," Spock replied, head bowed, working furiously on his controls.

They all watched as the levels slowly climbed down to normal - it took three minutes and ten seconds - but Spock finally managed to reach equilibrium.

 

"Well, I see I have a lot to learn about Vulcan physiology. Are you sure you are okay?" The man asked.

Spock nodded.

 

"Okay, clearly, you need to rest." The Doctor turned again, and this time, Jim turned before the man could claim him again, and both began to exit.

 

In the most dreadfully shameful fashion, Spock's controls failed again, when he realized Jim was leaving. The monitors picked up his internal state with no mercy, and broadcast it for the entire world to see.

 

"What the bloody hell?" The Doctor yelled.

 

Spock lowered his gaze, clasped his palms tightly, and cursed himself.

Then, in a low voice, he said, "Doctor, I require him to stay."

 

There was a sputtering sound as the man reacted to this request from him. Spock didn't dare to look up. Death at the hands of those creatures was surely better than this.

 

"You want James?" Finally, the man had found his voice.

"Yes," Spock replied, observing his knuckles turning white.

 

"Huh! I have seen a lot of bizarre things in my life as a Doctor, a lot! But this is going to be my new favorite. Well, Mr. Kirk, do you _want_ to stay?" Dr. Muamba asked.

 

"Yes, Sir." Jim spoke for the first time. Spock willed his heart to not cause any more drama, though it skittered wildly, at hearing that voice.

 

"Hmph. I may be starting to understand you a bit after all, Mr. Kirk, and the reason behind your silence." Spock risked a quick glance upwards. The Doctor was rubbing his chin. "Well, apparently, I am being kicked out of my own office." The older man turned around and left.

 

Silence.

 

Spock went back to studying the patterns on his clasped hands.

The last trace of his dignity had now been stripped away from him. He simply couldn't look up and meet Jim's eyes after the blatant show he had just put on. His ears told him what his eyes couldn't. Jim finally, quietly padded into the room and came to stand next to his bed.

 

Spock moved his legs to make space, in a silent plea. And Jim, as always indulged him. The man sat down on the bed, in the space Spock had created for him, but not touching.

 

"Spock," Jim spoke to him directly.

Spock's eyes looked up. Jim's voice commanded him.

 

"How are you here?" Spock finally asked.

"Why? Because first year cadets are not assigned starship duty, huh?" Jim looked at him steadily.

"Yes, I had presumed that was the norm."

"Well, I had told ya, one must not presume anything." Jim crossed his arms.

"Indeed."

 

No one knew but Spock, just how many of his presumptions lay slain at the hands of his human.

 

 

"Would you like a shave?" Jim asked. No smile, but Jim's voice wasn't cold either. It had such deep warmth to it. But, the lack of smile and the dimness of those eyes bothered Spock.

 

Spock touched his own face at this query, and realized, he did indeed need a shave.

 

"Yes, Jim."

"May I?"

 

Spock had to divert his focus to his bodily functions at Jim's offer, lest they create a cacophony again. After a few moments, he nodded, not trusting his voice.

 

Jim rose and went to the attached head from the CMO's private office in med-bay. On a starship, space came at a high premium, and finding a closed space for Spock to remain hidden from rest of the staff, was no easy feat. Spock was impressed by the resourcefulness of the three humans, who were involved in his care.

 

His human returned with the supplies. With gloved hands, Jim tucked in a towel around Spock's neck, his body leaning in just enough to do the task; rest of his body at a safe distance away.

 

Jim's touch, it seemed, had been taken away from Spock's allowances. He accepted this rebuke. Jim had every right to be displeased with him. He had after all wounded Jim on his shoulder, in the most unforgivable manner, the last time Jim had touched him.

 

Jim adjusted the bio-bed so that Spock's upper body was tilted at a comfortable angle, in a semi-reclined position, level with Jim's standing height. Jim leaned over Spock, turned on the sonic shaver and with complete concentration, slowly worked on bringing Spock's face back to civilization.

 

Jim's lips was inches away from his own. While Jim's eyes were focused on the side of his face, Spock drank in the sight. Jim had definitely lost weight. He was still the same, but there were subtle changes in him. There were new lines in the skin of his face and Spock wanted to know the story behind every one of them. But, he already had the sinking feeling that these stories were not going to be revealed to him.

 

_Had he saved the Federation but lost Jim?_

His heartache was immediately picked up by the cursed machines. Jim stopped and his gaze slid from Spock's neck to Spock's eyes.

 

"What is it?" Jim asked.

 

Spock's tongue felt heavy like lead. What could he say? How could he explain his inner turmoil without sounding like a beggar, and without inducing guilt, and even worse, pity?

 

And he absolutely was not going to use the link or his telepathy. He had invaded Jim's privacy with such carelessness, while he was dying, but now he was strong again, and his human deserved to be respected.

 

 

"Spock?"

"I do not know what to say."

"Yeah, neither do I."  Jim resumed shaving, in the region of his Adam's apple.

 

That answer produced an even more intense reaction in Spock. Jim paused again.

 

"Spock? Are you in pain?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you tell me? Let me get the Doctor." Jim hurriedly walked over to the other side.

"He cannot help me."

 

Jim looked alarmed. It was the first openly emotional reaction Spock had seen, since he had woken up.

"Why? What's wrong with you?"

 

"I have lost your trust," Spock's raspy voice came out trembling.

 

Jim stopped mid-stride, the sonic shaver in one hand, and the other hand extended towards the call-button.

 

"You have lost my trust?!!" He turned around and started advancing on Spock with the sonic-shaver now held like a phaser in front of him. "Is that what your giant brain has concluded?"

 

Spock's eyebrows rose up.

"You are distressed."

 

"Oh no!" Jim waved a hand in the air. "I have _looong_ crossed that state Mr. Spock. Distress is child's play now." Jim reached Spock's side again, and the shaver-turned-phaser was pointed at Spock. "Are you in pain because you think you've lost my trust?"

 

Spock nodded, eyeing Jim's hand.

 

Jim blew a long breath and suddenly calmed down.

"Good," and with that, Jim serenely went back to shaving Spock.

 

Spock waited for some explanation. Jim usually was good at those.

 

"Jim?" Spock was very confused, when nothing more was offered.

 

"A little suffering is good for the soul, Spock. If you're reacting to losing just my trust like this, I can't imagine what you would do in my situation."

 

Jim methodically covered the rest of Spock's face and stood back to look at his handiwork. Jim's expression had opened a bit, Spock noted.

 

"And may I ask, what is your situation?" Spock asked cautiously.

"You may," Jim un-tucked the towel from Spock's neck, and wiped his cheeks gently. Then, he slowly peeled the gloves off his hands and folded the towel. Finally, he looked Spock in the eye, and whispered, "I lost _you_."

 

Jim went to the head to discard the soiled items. 

On his return, Jim asked, "How do you feel?"

 

"Improved."

 

"You look tired. I think you should rest now," Jim's voice was gentle.

 

Spock felt like the young child he had once been, when Amanda would insist he go to bed, but Spock wanted to prolong the time spent with her. So, he would act illogically, and would earn Sarek's reprimand. However, the reprimand usually meant he had to study longer. And _that_ meant, he could continue sitting next to Amanda, while he completed the extra studies. He wondered now, if she had always seen through him, after all.

 

"I do not require rest at this time," he looked at Jim.

 

"That's not for you to decide, smart-ass."

 

Spock's eyes widened a bit at that.

 

"I want to call you worse names, just be grateful, I am being polite." Jim went to Spock's bedside and lowered the bed, so Spock was back to horizontal.

 

"You are annoyed," Spock looked up, while Jim re-arranged Spock's sheets, hovering above him. There was no real need for it. But Jim spent 2.3 minutes on it, anyways.

 

Jim was very careful not to touch him, he noted. This was extremely concerning, but he didn't know how to protest.

 

"There is no adjective you know of, that can describe what I am feeling," Jim finally straightened up and met Spock's eyes. "Sleep, Spock. I will be back in the morning."

 

"I do not-"

 

"Don't do this to me. Please. You _have_ to get better. I can't see you like this." An expression of infinite sorrow crossed Jim's face.

Spock's entire being responded to that expression with equal pain.  

"As you wish," Spock conceded.

 

Jim took a step towards Spock, but then hesitated. With near-Vulcan ability, Jim donned the mask back on, and his expression turned to neutral. He turned around.

 

This was _unacceptable_ to Spock. Whatever promise lay in that step, Spock just couldn’t let go.

 

"Jim," Spock pleaded.

 

Jim looked back at him, and then Jim looked at the monitors. Spock was relieved that he was, for the most part, successfully managing to keep his bodily functions in check.

His human retraced the steps back to Spock's bedside. Then, he bent over Spock and gently touched the top of his hair with his lips, "Sleep, sweetheart."

Jim straightened, walked away and closed the door softly behind him.

 

Spock stopped breathing.

 

 

The last time, anyone had touched him in this manner, was when he was three years old and Amanda had tried to soothe him. But, once he had decided on the Vulcan way of living, he had distanced himself from her and she stopped touching him physically to express affection.

 

 

Spock had not cried since he was five years old and the bullies had broken through his defenses. He had not cried when he left his planet and his family behind, in an act of rebellion. He had not cried when he left Jim behind, to go to Axanar, knowing he might not return. And he certainly had not cried, when the moment of death had come.

 

But, now, Spock felt the long forgotten sensation return. He took in a long, ragged breath. His throat felt constricted and his eyes threatened to moisten. _Sleep,_ s _weetheart_. Spock wanted to cry.

 

In spite of his protest to Jim, Spock was in actuality, feeling extremely fatigued. In his childhood, when Sarek would finally run out of reprimands, and young Spock's eyes would droop under the weight of sleep, Amanda would gently carry him to bed. Now, he finally relinquished his control. Spock's eyes closed, his tears safely hidden inside.

 

 


	41. Cracks

Jim lay on his bunk, staring into nothing. He couldn't sleep. He was worried. Very, very worried. What had started as a crush on Spock had turned into the love of his life, but now it seemed, it had gone beyond even that. He was  _obsessed_ with Spock. Something wasn't right in his head, he feared.

 

First problem was his headaches had disappeared. The coincidence with Spock's re-appearance in his life was too much to ignore. Was he suffering from some kind of withdrawal symptoms when Spock had left? Was he literally addicted to Spock? If so, Jim felt terrified. This couldn't be healthy. He was adult enough to know such dependence would lead him down a dark path. Wasn't it enough that his heart had, in the actual sense, broken when Spock left? Now his mind was going to crack too?

 

After Spock's sudden disappearance, Jim had painstakingly built his life back, bit by bit. It wasn't like before, it probably never will be. But he was surviving. And now, how was he supposed to feel?

 

First, the shock of knowing he had misjudged Spock, then the mad dash to save him, and after all that Spock going into coma. Not knowing if Spock would wake up? What if he had woken up with brain damage and not recognized Jim?

 

Thoughts like these had kept Jim awake night after night. Spock had been in coma for two weeks - the longest two weeks Jim had known.

 

Jim turned to his side. But it wasn't comfortable so he flipped back. Finally, he kicked his sheets off and sat up quietly. The Doctor was deep asleep in the bunk next to him. Jim slipped out of their room and went to the observation deck. He missed his Golden Gate Bridge. He missed Bones. Even if he couldn't openly talk about Spock to his friend, Bones always knew what to say. He missed Ruth too. She was the one person who probably understood his pain the most.

 

He should have been overjoyed to have Spock back. But, instead he was feeling so conflicted that he couldn't even be happy. The truth was - did Jim deserve to be happy? Did he deserve someone like Spock?

 

His behavior when Number One called him had been haunting him. There was no other way to look at it. He had completely lost all control over himself. How was he going to become a Captain, if he lost his shit, when something personal was at stake? There would be people who would die under his command. People, who would be someone's wife or husband or friend or lover.

 

Just few months back, Jim had dreamed of serving together with Spock. Now, he wondered how would he hold command, if the thought of something happening to Spock, sent him spiraling down into madness?

 

He had been ready to violate every rule to save Spock. He was lucky Number One was on his side, somehow, but, what did this mean? Who was he?

 

Axanar's moon shimmered pale and yellow in the space in front of him. He was far away from Earth, but the stars were as always his silent companions. 

 

In all his years, Jim had never behaved recklessly or impulsive. Yes, he took risks. Because that's what leaders did. And he wasn't afraid of failing. But, he had never been unpredictable. He always thought through his actions, calmly weighing the pros and cons in his mind. But, during the entire time Spock's life was in jeopardy, Jim's ultimate goal had been to save Spock. At the cost of his own life.

 

 _And even that of others'._ The face of Xena Jr. popped up in his memory.

 

His superior officers may think the rescue mission was driven by the need to not only save Spock but also, to recover the evidence. Number One had been relieved when Jim had told her about the chip found in Spock's body. But, if Jim was being honest to himself, he cared only about Spock. Not the Federation or the Peace treaty. Spock's life took precedence over everything.

 

Where would he stop? Would he  _harm_ someone next time, if it meant saving Spock? A shiver ran down his spine.

 

And none of this was Spock's fault. The Vulcan had acted with such integrity.

He had left to stop a war!

To do his duty!

The polar opposite of what Jim's recent actions had been.

Jim had never doubted Spock's friendship but clearly, Spock knew his priorities. Duty first.

 

Jim on the other hand, had managed to lose himself. He didn't know how to stop feeling what he felt for Spock. He loved _too much._ Spock would never understand, never be able to reciprocate his madness. Spock didn't even miss anyone.

 

"Good morning!" Jim heard someone greeting in the ship's corridor outside the observation deck.

He turned away from the sight of Axanar's bright star starting to creep from behind the planet's body, and went to get ready for yet another day of meetings.

 

* * *

 

 

 

Spock woke up early the next morning. His fatigue induced sleep of four hours, since he had regained consciousness, had not been restorative. He felt uncharacteristically restless.

 

Dr. Muamba came to retrieve some items from his office. He checked Spock thoroughly and then left him in peace. The Doctor seemed to have a very good insight into his patients' needs.

 

The day had begun for the people on the ship. He heard people passing by his location, eager to start their day jobs, all unaware of his presence on their ship.

 

Then, he heard a set of foot-steps approaching. These footsteps, Spock knew, were meant to end in his room. Jim opened the door to his room, and stood resplendent in formal dress attire. Spock had never seen Jim in a dress uniform. The jade sheen of his uniform seemed to make his eye stand out even more. The golden trim on the fabric, cast an angelic glow on Jim's face. But Jim had dark circles under his eyes and he looked like he had not slept in days.

 

 "Good morning, how are you feeling?" Jim walked in confidently. Spock silently thanked him for this gift. The gift of Jim's closeness, without him having to beg for it.

"I am feeling. That is posing a significant challenge," he replied truthfully.

Spock moved his legs, Jim again indulged him, and sat down gracefully on the bed by his foot.

 

Green eyes looked at him with a steady gaze. Everything about Jim seemed rock-steady. Spock, in contrast felt like a loose leaf, tossing around helplessly.

 

"Have you meditated?" Jim asked.

"I have not yet had the opportunity."

"How long have you gone without meditation?"

"I am afraid I cannot be precise. Since leaving Earth."

 

Jim nodded thoughtfully.

"Then, you shouldn't postpone it any longer."

 

Spock studied the human sitting in front of him. Humans didn't need to meditate. Yet, Jim had accurately and expediently diagnosed Spock.

 

Jim's hands were loosely clasped in his lap. There was no tremor in his limbs. No uncertainty. Spock's own hands were hidden under the sheet, and his first two fingers ached to reach out to Jim's. Every part of his body was hungry to move closer to Jim, closer till they could touch, closer even, till nothing would remain in between.

 

Spock took a long breath.

Jim was right. He needed to pick up all these wants and needs that had spilled out of him. He had to gather them all and pack them back in. This release of emotions would burn him and take Jim down with him.

 

They sat in silence. Jim looking down at his hands, and Spock looking at Jim. Spock had never been uncomfortable with silence before. In fact, Vulcans actively sought it. Economy of speech was a desired trait that every Vulcan sought to acquire.

 

But, this stillness between them did not feel tranquil. They had spent many hours in quiet company, studying and working together side by side, in Academy. This was different.

 

Spock desperately wanted Jim to talk. To look at him. To smile. To tell him stories.  _Where have I erred, t’hy’la?_

  

Jim stood up.

 

Spock felt like a verdict was being handed to him. A sentence worse than death.

 

"Jim," his voice wasn't steady.  _Have I lost thee?_

 

The man, whose existence was the center of Spock's universe, seemed to be holding a flood behind his eyes.

 "You haven't lost my trust, Spock. You have saved us all. You are a hero."

 

"I - I have - ," Spock faltered.

Spock closed his eyes and tried again, "I have  _missed_  you."

 

He heard Jim's sharp intake of breath and opened his eyes. Jim was looking down at his boots, his jaw tight, a muscle twitching. On his temple, a vein throbbed. 

 

Spock had spoken too much. His tongue needed restraint immediately. 

 

Finally, Jim looked up back at him.

"I will see you in the evening. Meditate, okay?" Jim's voice was uneven, no longer flowing smoothly.

 

"Where are you going?" Spock's manners were at an absolute low.

 

"I am part of the peace delegation. That's how I am here. The paper -  _our_  paper - it proved to be useful. I will be in meetings all day on the planet's surface." Jim explained.

 

 _Did you not miss me? Will you think of me, Jim? Or am I the only one suffering?_ Spock's mind was consumed by questions, running amok.

 

Thankfully, Jim turned around and left before Spock made a further spectacle of himself.

 

He looked at the closed door for a long time. He had indeed been unable to meditate for so many days. Clearly, he was feeling the effects now. His emotions were running rampant. Every small gesture, every word spoken, every glance from Jim, was producing intense reaction in him.

His thoughts were racing, stumbling over each other. One moment he was feeling hopeful and emotional, the next moment he seemed to drown in self-doubt and loathing. His internal monologue was plagued with "what-ifs" and reliving past memories.

This is what happened to Vulcans if they couldn't use logic to bring order. Spock felt bile rising in his mouth, so overwhelmed was he, at being thrown from one end of the emotional spectrum to another.

 

He felt naked, exposed inside out, his soul open, raw and bleeding.

 

Jim hadn't replied to his comment about missing. 

Spock took another deep breath.

 

A lot had changed in the last two months. His earlier conclusions about the bond no longer applied. But, before he could navigate through the brutally painful feelings, he just  _had_ to meditate. His soul needed surgery and it was going to take all his concentration and focus.

 

Spock reached for the call-button on his bedside. Dr. Muamba's voice answered immediately, "Yes, Mr. Spock?"

"Doctor. I am simply apprising you that I am going to enter a deep meditative trance for the next several hours. Please do not be concerned. Some of my vitals may register very low during this time, however, this is normal."

"I see. I had heard about Vulcans and their need to meditate. Thank you for the heads-up. Is there any chance of you not coming out of the trance?"

"Negative. I will be fully conscious. A gentle shaking of my shoulders, if the need arises, will be sufficient to break my trance."

"Okay, you are being fed intravenously anyways. I will keep an eye."

"Thank you. Spock out."

 

Spock adjusted his bio-bed so he was inclined at 45 degrees. Then, he bent his leg in a loose cross-over position and arranged his palms over his knees. The ability to do this was in itself, calming. He had been running for his life and living in constant danger for so many days, that this feeling of safety was surreal. He could trust the people around him. No one was going to be hunting for evidence or questioning his undercover identity. He could finally breathe - but it felt like a heavy boulder was crushing his lungs.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

Jim was sitting on the floor, fiddling with a thread hanging from one of the cushion-pillows. He changed position. It was hard sitting like this at a stretch, but the Axanaris showed no discomfort. Across the table he met Xena's eyes, and they nodded at each other - their private imperceptible greeting. The proceedings carried on.

 

His thoughts, which had been brought back to the moment, due to his need to change position, soon floated far, far away.

 

Spock had looked like a wounded animal that morning. But, Jim felt like if he opened even a little bit, he would just explode like a volcano. All his pain,anger,suffering and longing would burn Spock. His Vulcan didn't deserve to be brought down by Jim's demons.

 

What he really had wanted to do was to hold the frail Vulcan in his arms forever. Protect him from everyone in this universe. Spock looked so vulnerable and so precious. Jim's heart ached with the need to cradle him. But, he would never cross that line again. He would never touch Spock again.

 

Everyone started standing up around him. Jim hastily got up. He had been so lost that he didn't even notice the meetings coming to an end. Jim joined the others as each group performed the bow-like gesture. He had no clue what had transpired today. The entire day, he had apparently just been lost in thoughts about Spock.

 

His heart beat picked up, knowing he was going back to ship now to visit Spock. As if he wasn’t already being pulled in a million directions, he still couldn't stop wanting Spock. That morning, sitting so close to Spock, he had wanted to crush those lips and ravage that body. In spite of the disastrous result of that night in his room, Jim just couldn't stop lusting after Spock.

 

But at least, one good thing had come out of that night. Jim could contain himself now. The rejection and eventual abandonment since that fateful evening, had cured him of any impulses. He could be a man of steel when it came to Spock.

Never again would he touch Spock and make him feel so uncomfortable. If he was destined to live the rest of his life, inches away from Spock, and never to touch him again, then so be it. It was better than not having Spock in his life at all. He would become a goddamned monk if that's what it took. All he wanted was, Spock to be in his life, in some fashion, somehow. Rest he could live with.

 

Jim started walking, towards the transporter site, deep in thoughts.

 

Bumbles fell in stride next to him. "You are a broken man."

"Am I?" Jim asked in surprise.

"Did you not hear the announcement today?" His friend asked.

"I have been a little distracted. What was it about?"

 

Bumbles peered at him.

"Are you well? I know I am not to ask about the incident, but after you have returned, you have been different."

"You are a good friend. I have been better. I will be okay again. Just some personal things going on." Jim shrugged.

Bumbles kept peering.

"So, what was the announcement?" Jim asked, trying to distract Bumbles.

"All the main points of negotiations have now been resolved. The treaty will be signed by end of the Axanar month.”

“Well, that is good news, right?” Jim asked.

“Yes, yet you walk with the weight of a thousand stars.”

 

Jim stared open mouthed at Bumbles.

 

“Tonight is the royal feast, to mark this historic event. Both sides will celebrate. No one is going to the ship, yet you walk in that direction.”

 “Oh!” Jim really had not heard a word, apparently, all day. “I just need to check on something and I will be back.”

“There is no reason for other humans to go back. Everyone has been asleep here, just like you were. But then, after that night, you started sleeping on the ship.”

 “Well…” Jim had not thought about this. But of course, it would be noticed!

 The Commodore and the Doctor seemed to implicitly understand, or did they not? Jim suddenly realized he shouldn't be an exception if the rest of the peace delegation were confined to the planet. It was a show of faith by the Humans to their host, so, such gestures were critical to diplomacy.

 “Have I offended anyone?” Jim asked, now worried.

“No. Not yet. But tonight it is a special evening. I am to prepare you in traditional Axanar clothes. We must return to your room immediately.”

 “I – I just need to go to the ship once.”

 “What is on the ship? We can arrange for it to be brought down.”

 “I will be back very soon, I promise. And I will sleep here from tonight.” Jim didn’t wait for Bumbles to answer, afraid of what he might say. He sprinted to the transporter site and once up on the ship, ran all the way to the med-way.

 

  

 

* * *

 

 

 

Spock opened his eyes to find Dr. Muamba holding his shoulders and gently shaking him.

“Doctor,” Spock spoke hoarsely.

 

“I am sorry Mr. Spock but we need to get you started on physical therapy. Your leg had to be regenerated and so it will need some retraining for you to be able to walk again.”

“No apologies required, Doctor. I understand.”

 

 

Spock stretched his legs and twisted his torso. Blood flowed in parts which had been under pressure from sitting so long. His eyes fell on the chronometer in the room. It was evening.

Nine hours and fourteen minutes, later, Spock's mind had found some semblance of calmness. He had been able to reach one of the deepest trance states of his life. He felt greatly relieved. The questions and dilemmas plaguing him were still to be resolved, but Spock, was able to finally see past his own ego again.

He no longer cast his own doubts and his own inadequacies on the curtain of his mind. It was not about him. It was always about others. There was serenity in that knowledge. He had lost touch with it, in the turmoil of these past months, specially the last few days. But, now Spock felt immense love pouring from within his soul. For every creature, for the universe, for Jim.

 

 

“I was monitoring you closely and your readings kept getting better. Look for yourself. When you first woke up, your stress level was astronomical. But now, everything seems to have calmed down. Again, I am very impressed with Vulcan physiology.” Dr. Muamba pointed to the monitors.

 

Spock looked and nodded.

 

 

He wanted to inquire about Jim. But, he wasn’t sure how to do it. What was the proper human protocol in such situations?

 

“Doctor, is Cadet Kirk well?” Hopefully asking about someone’s health was acceptable.

“I am sure he is. They are all down there. Some big feast tonight, he must be busy. Excuse me, I am going to run this on the computer quickly and be back.” 

 

Spock checked his shields. To his relief, he was now able to erect them at full strength.

 

For the first time since he had been rescued, he wondered about the evidence, the microchip. Did the Doctor know? He must know, but Spock couldn’t risk asking much, without knowing exactly who had the chip. He wanted to talk to Number One or Captain Pike.

 

The bond twitched, just a little nudge. It too had calmed down, no longer reacting with volatility. Once he had meditated for few more weeks, he was confident, he could shield the bond completely and Jim would have 100% privacy.

 

But for now, he accepted that the bond was signaling the arrival of Jim.

 

Dr. Muamba returned with a tall, muscular, blonde young human.

“This is my assistant Andreas, I told you about earlier. He is going to help you.”

 

Andreas came up to Spock’s bed and said, “Hello, We will start with having you trying to stand.”

The young man held out his hand. Taking Spock’s weight onto himself, Andreas helped Spock stand.

 

The door to his room opened and Jim peeked in, out of breath.

 

“Hello, James.” Dr. Muamba looked up to greet Jim.

“Am I disturbing?” Jim looked from Andreas to the Doctor and finally at Spock.

“No, we are just getting Mr. Spock started on physical therapy. I thought you wouldn’t be here now, isn’t there a feast tonight?”

“I just came to check on Spock.” Jim stepped fully inside and closed the door behind him.

 

Spock tore his gaze away and concentrated on the task at hand. Andreas was a strong human. He bore the brunt of Spock’s weight as the leg trembled under him.

 

He lasted seven minutes and three seconds before collapsing.

 

But Dr. Muamba was energized. “That is amazing!”

The older man turned to Jim. "You see that? He will be walking in no time! That is hard work and he didn’t even utter a peep.”

“Vulcans don’t peep, Doctor, you will soon see that,” Jim replied with the hint of a smile.

Their eyes met and Spock raised an eyebrow at Jim.

 

Andreas helped Spock get settled in the bio-bed.

 

“By third day, we should be able to attempt a quick trip to the head. You may enjoy a shower. I think therapy twice a day would be good enough.” Dr. Muamba was speaking as he made notes on his PADD and then he turned to Spock and asked, “Do you need anything, young man?”

 

“I would like access to some reading material. Federation news and the peace treaty specifically.” Spock spoke, still slightly out of breath, from the effort of standing up.

“Oh yes, of course. You must be bored. Andreas, can you find a spare PADD for Mr. Spock? We can bring in one of the ships’ mobile computer tomorrow morning; no one is using them anyways, since hardly anyone is aboard.”

 

Andreas nodded and left.

“Anything, else?”

“No, Doctor, thank you.” Spock replied gratefully.

 

“All right, then. James, you better be gone in five minutes. He needs to rest.” Dr. Muamba clapped on Jim’s shoulders as he left the room.

 

Alone at last, they looked at each other.

 

Spock moved his legs and Jim stepped up to the bed and sat down.

 

"Were you able to meditate?"

"Affirmative.”

“Feeling better?”

“Indeed. How was your day, Jim?" 

Jim looked down at his hands. "It was okay."

 

"Have you eaten?"

"Hmmm, actually no, there is a feast tonight, so I have to attend that.”

"Have you been sleeping, Jim?"

Jim didn't reply immediately. Spock’s eyes left Jim’s face and fell on his hands. Jim was fiddling with a pen. Spock immediately recognized the pen, and he couldn’t help but sharply inhale.

 

Green eyes looked up at his gasp, and a pair of eyebrows bent into a question.

“You okay?” Jim asked innocently.

“I believe that pen was in my possession at one time.”

“What?” Jim’s eyes widened, “Oh!” He hastily bent his right arm and held the pen behind his back. “I – I forgot I even had it. I just...“   His human struggled for words, while an appealing hue colored his cheeks.

 

“The concept of object permanence develops very early in life, Jim.” Spock felt his heart swell with warmth at Jim's flushed cheeks. How he had missed this sight.

 

Jim’s eyebrows came together on his forehead, the way they did, whenever his human was having trouble grasping a difficult subject.

“Hiding the pen behind your back will not make me forget, it exists.” Spock explained.

“Okay, fine!” Jim brought the pen back out of hiding. “It’s still mine, though.”

“It always, will be,” Spock replied, hoping Jim would hear what he couldn’t say.

“This is all I have, anyways,” Jim was looking down again, head hung low.

 “Jim,” Spock felt pain course through him.

 

“FIVE MINUTES IS OVER!” Dr. Muamba’s loud voice rang around the entire med-bay.

 

Jim got up. “I gotta go. I am not sure when I will see you next. I will be sleeping down there, so probably tomorrow evening.”  

Spock nodded. That seemed an inordinately long amount of time.

Jim stood by the door, ready to leave. “I missed you too. You have NO idea how much. And I will miss you every second till I am back.”

 

 

 

 

 


	42. Unsolvable equations

Spock had slept better last night. Jim's parting words had sealed some of the cracks inside him. He had meditated all morning and then in the afternoon Andreas had come for therapy. Today, he had managed to stand for ten whole minutes and even take a few steps, though leaning heavily on his human crutch.

 

Now, he was reading Federation news on the PADD. He glanced through the highlights, of the past couple of months, making mental notes on which ones he wished to return, to read in further detail later. He sought out Academy news next. His eyes fell on a piece, when the name jumped out of the screen. With increasing stillness, he read the news bite which summarized an attack made on Cadet Kirk and Cadet Bonne. The suspect, a Cadet Finnegan, was absconding.

 

It took Spock several minutes to calm down after reading this. Then, he found another article which talked about Cadet Finnegan's dismissal from the Academy but the suspect was still on the run, with no recent updates on his whereabouts.

 

There was one more article of interest - Cadet Kirk and his own name was mentioned. Their paper and the Axanar mission.

 

Spock moved to the Peace Treaty next. A daily transcript of the ongoing proceedings was available and to Spock's relief, his security level had access to these pages. He read in rapt attention, the deteriorating state of affairs, till he came upon the fifth day and mid-way through the page, the name which made Spock's heart skip a beat, was mentioned again.

 

His eyebrows climbed up steadily as he read what Jim had spoken. When his eyes read the line - "I have lost my heart to someone and I have known the joy of being in love. That experience reinforced one of my fundamental convictions. That love transcends everything. It doesn't matter if you love a human, or a Vulcan, or an Axanari." - Spock had to stop and take deep breaths.

How many Vulcans did Jim know? To Spock's knowledge he was the only one. That gave him a 33.3% chance, the odds being divided equally among the three possibilities Jim had mentioned.

 

Spock turned off the PADD decisively. Any further reading would be impossible now. Spock wanted to get up and pace. But, his leg was in no condition to fulfill this requirement.

 

He resigned himself to a seated position and began to list the evidence, in his mind, one by one.

  1. Sleep, sweetheart.
  2. It doesn't matter if you love a human, or a Vulcan, or an Axanari
  3. You look good in that jacket.
  4. I missed you too. You have NO idea how much. And I will miss you every second till I am back.
  5. There is nothing anyone can say or judge you about. I have never met a kinder soul than you. If you were human, I would have hugged the life out of you right now.
  6. I think of you as my North Star. You keep me grounded. No matter what else is going on in my life, I can count on you.



 

Spock exhaled. Then, he made a list of another set of facts.

 

  1. Jim winked at individuals other than himself.
  2. Jim had dated in the past, and believed in that concept.
  3. Jim had been severely sexually assaulted at a young age.
  4. Jim enjoyed being social and made several friends easily. Spock was just one of them.
  5. Jim had no idea about mind-melds and the Vulcan way of life. Jim didn't know about the bond and Spock's subsequent breach of Jim's privacy.
  6. Dr. McCoy had warned that trust was an important factor to consider for a PTSD patient.
  7. Jim found it hard to be with Spock - "I have been the epitome of patience! I have not laid a hand on you in all these months. Do you have any freaking idea how hard it is?"



 

 

Laid out this way, side by side, it felt like an unsolvable mathematical equation. There were too many unknown variables. So, Spock did what any mathematician would do. He started by making some assumptions, trying to eliminate some of the unknowns. 

 

There were contradictions and questions, which he could not resolve in a single day. Some of these would take probably his lifetime. But, the immediate conclusion was that Jim considered Spock a friend.

A friend, towards whom Jim experienced physical attraction. Keeping in mind Jim's age, this seemed a normal occurrence for a human of his years. What was probably not as normal was that Jim had risked his life to save Spock. Whatever he was to Jim, it was a significant relationship, at least.

 

 Spock had planned on explaining to Jim the unintentional bond and the mind-meld. He had wanted Jim to know that he had seen of his memories. This was the moral and honest course of action. But, his near-death moment had changed everything.

 

Sitting alone in the tiny room, he acknowledged the fact that, when everything else was stripped away from his mind, and the final moments had come, Spock had thought of Jim as his t'hy'la.

 

One could not fabricate such a thing out of wishful thinking alone. Spock had been suspecting this for months now, but he didn't know it himself, to be the truth.

The concept of t'hy'la predated to a time, when Vulcans followed a vastly different life. Had it not been for Sybok, Spock wouldn't even have known of it. Vulcans looked upon bonds as a favorable aspect of Vulcan society.

But, t'hy'la was such a unique bond - one which was superior to even the bonds of Pon Farr – that it had been unheard of in modern Vulcan history. It entailed such intense emotional attachment that modern day Vulcans considered it as more of mysticism, than a feasible phenomenon.

 

If other Vulcans couldn't accept the all-consuming nature of such a bond, how could Jim, a human survive it? Jim would possibly lose his sanity, unable to withstand the extreme emotional transference, if they were to consummate their mind-link. But, Jim did feel some of the effects physically, this much Spock knew already, from the ill-fated effort of trying to break the bond.

 

Now, Spock had to make sure, Jim didn't hear him across the bond ever, even by mistake.

 

Secondly, Spock could never mind-meld with his human again. He would not be able to resist the temptation of bonding with this t'hy'la, if he was in a mind-meld with him. At the age of 23, Spock was too young and too inexperienced in his mental discipline to resist such a bond.

 

Spock closed his eyes at this painful revelation. It hurt him physically to accept this truth.

 

This, then also meant, Spock couldn't permit himself to lose control over his physical desires. In the throes of Pon Farr, a Vulcan needed to mind-meld with their mate, unlike humans who only joined physically.

 Spock was almost sure that if he reached that state of physical proximity with Jim, he would end up mind-melding with his Human.

 

That left him with the last question. Could he be the Vulcan equivalent of a "date" at least?

 

Spock's _katra_ wanted it more than anything. All he wished for was to touch Jim and to be touched in the simplest of ways. Jim had once spoken of a hug and since then Spock could not get it out of his mind.

To be hugged by his _las’hark -_ what would Spock give for that privilege.

 

But, Spock was not a free human like Jim was. Vulcans didn't touch others casually. Certainly not a hug. Or more. 

Spock was betrothed to T'pring.

 

Even the most emotional of humans recognized the immorality of actions which betrayed one's betrothed. Not only would he lower himself to the level of a vermin, but he would also be lying to Jim.

 

Spock opened his eyes and looked at the painting across the room, seeing nothing. No, Spock couldn't do that. He had changed so many of his presumptions, but this he couldn't. Jim didn't deserve this, T'pring didn't either. Spock would have to live without ever touching his _las’hark_. He would have to endure his life, next to his t'hy'la but never joining his mind or touching his body. Jim didn't need to know any of this. Jim could be free to find other humans.

 

 _Kaidith._ This was his test then, and he would learn to be strong enough to survive it.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

The feast turned out to be a long evening. Jim felt terrible because all the food the Axanaris had laid out for them, tasted weird. He had always been an adventurous eater, not shying away from trying out new flavors. In some ways, he mused, this sense of openness was a pre-requisite to become a StarFleet cadet. Specially an Officer. But, there was a difference in his attitude towards new foods when he was carefree, compared to when he was feeling miserable.

 

He mingled around, doing his part in establishing diplomatic relations, a smile fixed on his lips for such occasions. He had become a sort of mini-celebrity. Jim wasn't sure if it was due to his little spiel or his youth. The smile wasn't entirely artificial though.

 

Hearing Spock say he had missed Jim that morning had affected him deeply. It took him a day to gather the courage to reciprocate. But it lifted some of the weight off his shoulders. Jim didn't know how badly he wanted Spock to know that, till he actually said it.

 

 

Commodore Bailey found Jim and took him aside.

 

"Enjoying?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Son, I have a new assignment for you. Now that the endless negotiations are over, what is left is to write the actual document, incorporating all that has been agreed upon. Both sides have legal and writing staff for this purpose. Every word in the treaty has to be clear and precise. Future misunderstandings and complications will rest on how well we can capture this spirit of tolerance and brotherhood." Bailey looked around the huge court-yard, where the feast was being held.

 

"I understand, Sir."

"I knew you would. You wrote that paper after all. So, what I require you to do is proofread everything the writers produce, starting tomorrow morning. If you have any thoughts or you disagree with anything, come to me directly. Any questions?"

"No, Sir."

"Good!" Bailey thumped Jim's back. "Have fun tonight." Then the senior officer left to do his own diplomatic duties.

Jim looked down at the glass he was holding. It was the one thing that tasted good to him - some kind of drink, very close to cranberry juice. 

 

He felt a wave of disappointment wash over him. It was a proud moment for him that the Commodore valued his opinion so highly and yet he was feeling doubly miserable now. He had hoped to be able to spend more time with Spock. Instead, he was going to be swamped with legalese.

 

It was late at night by the time he returned to his Axanar guest room. He had not slept since Spock had come out of coma last night, and it had been a long day of emotional turmoil. Tomorrow, he had to be able to focus and not let down Commodore Bailey.

He was still racked with guilt and doubts over his obsession.

 

Jim slowly changed into his pajamas, smiling a little at the reindeers and pine trees prints.

 

Lying on his Axanar-style bed, which, like everything on this planet was on the floor, he looked up wistfully, wondering at what position the ship was in orbit.

 

_Good night, Spock._

_I miss you._

Next day, the final phase of work started in earnest. Teams had been created for each section of the document and the meeting room had been turned into a working space. The low black granite table now held several computers on the Humans' side and similar devices on the Axanari side. Throughout the day, refreshments were brought to keep the teams going. Jim was intrigued to see that Bailey had somehow managed to have coffee served to his side of the table.

 

Jim fought with his concentration all day. It kept drifting away to the ship above. Several times he caught himself simply staring at the screen, not really reading a single word. Lunch hour came and went. Finally, the work day ended and he breathed a sigh of relief.

 

As soon as he was out of the meeting hall, he made a bee line for the transporter room. But as he neared it, Jim started feeling uneasy. What if he was being a nuisance at the med-bay?

 

Spock had said he missed Jim, but how much? Did he miss the way, Jim did? Was he having difficulty with his concentration, the way Jim was having? Jim doubted any of that was even feasible.

He _was_ being a nuisance and everyone around him, including Spock, were just being polite.

 

He stopped walking, suddenly feeling pathetic. _What was he doing to himself?_ He had been brought to Axanar as a Starfleet Cadet; instead, his productivity had dropped to almost zero.

 

Jim stood feeling dejected, not sure anymore, if going to the ship and disturbing everyone was a good idea. Just because Spock said he had missed him, didn't mean Spock wanted to see him every day. His Vulcan probably wanted peace to meditate, to be left alone.

 

Jim slowly turned around and started walking back.

 

 

Bumbles caught up with him.

“I do not require a guide at this time. Can I please go and sit by the lake? The one past the turn there?” Jim pointed.

 

“I cannot leave you unattended, you know that. I apologize. These are my orders. Every human is to be accompanied at all times.”

 

“I know.” _All right Bumbles, you have a front row to my misery._

  
   Jim walked to the lake. It was his favorite spot in the city. Bumbles quietly followed him. The city was bustling with activity as the day was ending and people got ready to leave the surface to move down. Several Axanaris bowed to him, and Jim bowed back.

 

At the lake, Jim found a secluded spot, and sat down on the ground. Now that he had been outside the mushroom city, he recognized the sandy texture. The Axanaris had recreated some of the outdoors by bringing in the sand. It made for a beach like effect around the artificial lakes, which sparkled with their crystalline water.

 

Jim took off his dress uniform tunic; underneath he had a full sleeve under-shirt on. He bent his legs, folded his arms around his knees, and rested his chin on his forearms. The play of light and shadow, over the surface of the lake, reflected off his face.

 

Bumbles spoke up after sometime, from next to him, “Forgive me, it is not my place, but I am pained to see you in pain."

Jim bit his lower lip and just kept staring morosely. _What could he say? That he just wanted to die? Everything was so messed up. And he was exhausted. He didn't know how to fix his life. He didn't know how to stop thinking about Spock._

 

"You have spoken of peace and love. Everyone thinks of you as the special little one. But, I worry you are not at peace inside yourself, and I feel you are not placing love inside your heart." Bumbles spoke gently.

 

"I don't know who I am anymore or what I’m doing. I used to know what I wanted. I used to be proud of that. But, now...I - I don't know." The words spilled out of Jim.

 

"You are very young, my brother. I have seen more of life than you. Please believe my words. Your goodness shines from within you and everyone glows in your light. Whatever obstacle has come in your path, may I remind you, to be kind to yourself? Just the way you are kind to everyone around you."

 

Jim looked down, unable to meet this selfless being's eyes.

"How do you know all this about me?" He whispered.

 

"We are not so different, my little brother. As you said, we all feel heart break and we all feel the pain of loneliness. For one as young as yourself, to speak of such wise words, it must be true that you have experienced this darkness. And now I see you are different since you have returned from the incident. You battle with something within you. Something on that ship."

 

Jim made small circles with his right forefinger in the sand.

"Have you ever made mistakes?" He asked.

 

"Many. Too many to count. It is the nature of existence of any sentient being, little one. Do not judge yourself for making mistakes."

 

"What if I am making a mistake now? How do I know which path to choose?" Jim's lips trembled. _What if Spock was going to be disappointed in him, when he learnt of Jim's impulsive actions? What if Spock felt like he was a burden? What if Spock didn't like Jim as much as he liked Spock?_

 

"How did you know, you were doing the correct action, when your leaders were speaking the wrong words? How did you get the courage to stand up that day, and speak to everyone?" Bumbles asked softly.

 

Jim took a deep breath. "I just followed by heart. I believe in love over hate. I believe in unity and peace."

 

"Then, that's your answer, my brother. You will never harm anyone or bring suffering to any creature. Are your actions guided by love now? Is going to the ship an act of love or hate?"

 

Jim looked up at Bumbles. A pair of eyes, which looked nothing like a human's, nevertheless was full of kindness and gentleness.

 

Bumbles continued, "The only true mistake I have made in my many years of life is to be unkind to myself. Sometimes the light of the stars do not reach inside us. Because, sometimes we close ourselves to the universe. And when we do, we see only darkness all around. Your feet were taking you to the ship, yet you stopped. And now, you see darkness."

 

Jim looked at his friend, overwhelmed with gratefulness.

 

_Well, whatever else was messed up, he had been going to the ship out of love and not hate. At least that much, he was still sure of. Everything he had done for Spock, every rule he had broken, was out of love. Maybe he was closing himself to the universe, as Bumbles said. Keeping himself away from Spock sure felt like darkness. It hurt like hell._

 

Jim stood up and folded the uniform on his hands. Bumbles stood up as well.

 

"Can I ask a Human thing of you?" Jim asked, his voice choking,

 

"Anything, my little brother."

 

"I need a hug. Just wrap your arms around me."

 

Jim was encircled inside strange-textured, slightly warm limbs. He stood like that for some time, enveloped by someone who had lived through so much more than he ever would. Who seemed to, inexplicably, care deeply for Jim.

 

"Thanks," he finally mumbled, and gently pulled himself away.

"Going to the ship?" Bumbles asked.

"Yes, but I will be back soon."

"You do not have to join us for the last meal of the day. I will explain your absence. Whatever is up on the ship, it is calling you."

 

They made their way back to the transporter site.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

Spock ended his evening meditation and stretched his legs out. He remembered how difficult it used to be, in his childhood, to achieve stillness. He smiled internally at that memory.

He glanced at the chronometer and noted the lateness of the hour. Jim was busy and had duties to perform, he reminded himself. Spock would be patient. It was not becoming of a Vulcan to “fret”. Perhaps, today Jim wouldn’t be able to visit.

 

 

Several minutes later, he heard footsteps approaching and his heartbeat picked up. The door opened and Jim stood, a little bit hesitant.

 

"Hey, am I disturbing?" Jim asked from the doorway.

"No, Jim. I have been looking forward to your visit," Spock replied gently.

 

 

Jim smiled a little, stepped inside and closed the door.

 

"What's the Doctor saying?"

"I am progressing adequately," Spock moved his feet, and Jim sat down.

 

"Were you able to meditate anymore?"

"Yes. How was your day, Jim?"

“Lots of boring stuff. I had to read so much of it, my head hurts.”

"Have you eaten?"

"No, usually we eat with the hosts, down on the surface. But, Bumbles let me play hookey today."

"Bumbles? Play hookey?" Spock was intrigued. This didn't sound like the planet he had been living in, under disguise.

A sheepish smile spread on Jim's lips. Spock's heart skipped a beat. That smile - how long had he gone without it?

 

"I nicknamed my guide, Bumbles. I can't say their names. Can you?" Jim looked up from his hands.

"I may have some advantage over you. The Vulcan language is more complex than Standard." Spock was still intrigued. "What is hookey, Jim?"

 

Jim’s face slowly transformed into a smile so brilliant that it almost blinded Spock. Green eyes twinkling with mirth bore holes into him.

 

And the universe righted itself.

Pieces that had been missing fell in place.

Spock's blood turned to lava.

 

"I have missed your questions, Spock," Jim replied. "And your curiosity…your voice. I have messed up so much, but I am sorry, okay? I have been reminded recently that I have much to learn. So, I am going to behave henceforth. Just don't leave me again." The grin faded away.

 

"Jim," Spock's voice was still hoarse. "I did not leave you. I do not know how much knowledge you have, but please understand, I did not leave you."

 

"Yeah, I know you went on undercover mission. But, you could have told me – given me some signal, you know? I – I thought you had left because you were just done.”

 

Spock's heart squeezed with pain. His side of the bond threatened to invade into Jim's side and just _show._ All these words Humans used, just complicated matters. But, Spock had vowed not to use the bond. He just had to employ the inefficient method of human conversation and deal with the inevitable misunderstandings which language created.

 

"Jim, you came back for me. I am yet to understand how you found me, but you did find me. Do you regret it?"

 

"What! Of course, not!" Jim's reaction was instant.

 

"Then, you place others ahead of you. This is your nature, Jim."

 

Jim shifted on the bed, seemingly uncomfortable on hearing his own virtues.

 

"It is also in a Vulcan's nature to be loyal. I have given you my oath of loyalty. I will not betray you.”

“Well, not betray may be, but you know, you just left!”

Spock spoke calmly, his inner logic once more at his disposal. “Please cease this illogical line of thinking.”

 

“It’s not that illogical. Everyone leaves me at the end. I’m going to just die alone.”

 

Spock studied the face, long eye lashes looking down.

“Jim, do you know how many days I was in the Axanar desert?”

“Sixteen days,” Jim whispered back.

“Even by Vulcan standards, that length of time defies odds. Ten days at the most should have been my survival limit.”

 

Jim looked up. “Don’t talk like that!”

 

“Have you wondered why I kept going on? Why did I not give up?” Spock _had_ to convince Jim of his importance in his life.

“Ummm…”

“I examined my situation from all angles, and it was plainly hopeless. Logic informed me that under the circumstances, the only possible action would have to be one of desperation.”

 

 

"Oh?” Jim’s mouth stayed slightly open.

“I was desperate to see _you_ again, Jim.”

 

The inner corners of Jim’s eyebrows bent slightly up, as this information sunk in.

 

“Oh!” Jim sat still for some moments and then he sprang up from the bed and started walking around the room.

 “Then, do you promise not to vanish like that again?" Jim's eyes were wide and round, a lock of hair had fallen over his forehead. He looked like a little boy; all of his earlier steadiness replaced by an innocence, which made Spock take in a deep breath.

 "I cannot do so. It is the nature of our work, Jim. I could not to reveal the mission."

 "I don't want to hear that! Do you know when you left, I almost-" Jim bit his lips.

 

They were silent for a few moments. There were untold stories hanging in the air between them.

 

Jim tried again, “You could have explained to me. I wasn’t going to tell anyone.”

“And ask you to face court-martial, too? No, Jim.”

Jim stopped pacing and glared at Spock for several moments.

When it looked like Jim wouldn't speak, Spock asked, "Would you be able to place your trust and respect in me, as a Captain someday, if you knew I could not carry out my duties with integrity?"

 

Jim sighed. "Can't you just say it, for the sake of saying? It doesn't have to be true. Humans sometimes just want to hear reassurances, not ultimate truths."

 

"I am not a Human, Jim. I apologize but I cannot lie." Spock's made his voice as gentle as he could.

 

"I know." Jim blew air through his lips and watched the lock of hair flutter on his forehead. "And the damned thing is that's why I like you. Because you are, who you are.”

 

Jim walked towards Spock and stood next to the bed. “You saved us all, Spock. And you wouldn't even be recognized. No one will ever know of your sacrifice. There will be no records of it anywhere."

 

"Carrying out my duty is no sacrifice. You would do the same, Jim."

 "You still want to serve with me, someday? You still believe I am Captain-material?"

 Spock's own eyebrows rose. "Nothing has transpired for me to alter my opinion. On the contrary, it has further solidified."

 "Even after what I -" Jim stopped speaking again.

 

 Spock didn't ask and Jim didn't complete his sentence. Neither wanted to step into that landmine.

 

After a while, Jim spoke up, “So you can have emotional outbursts too? Like humans?”

“Insulting me will not earn you any favors.”

Jim flashed a huge smile at him; and Spock felt a deep sense of accomplishment.

 

"You must attend to your meal now." Spock turned to more practical matters.

 

Jim looked at the feeding line, hooked into Spock. "Are you allowed to eat anything?"

"Fluids, yes."

"Okay, I will get something for you, and for me." Jim stood up still smiling.

"I will wait." Spock nodded. _I will always wait for you, Jim. You will not die alone, for I will always be, by your side._

 

Jim paused at the door, and his smile stretched wider. "You already have stubble. I didn't realize how, ummm, fuzzy you were."

 

All of Spock's Zen like calmness evaporated. He dropped his eyes, his face feeling uncharacteristically warm.

 

He heard Jim laugh quietly from the doorway. "Welcome back, Spock."

Spock looked up silently. _Home is where you are, Jim._

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

They finished eating. Well, Spock had finished long ago, but Jim had been talking too much and hence was slow at his own sandwich. Jim told Spock about the meetings and the people he had met. Spock listened with warm amber eyes trained on Jim.

 

It was getting late, but Jim offered Spock another round of shaving to which the Vulcan almost beamed. It was a quick shave - like last time, gloved and careful not to upset Spock by touching. But, it was also nothing like last time.

 

 

When Spock’s mouth opened into a tiny yawn, Jim finally stood up.

 

"Good night, Spock."

"Good night, Jim."

 

Jim couldn't stop smiling all the way back to the surface. Spock's words about loyalty and the way Spock had looked at Jim the entire evening set his heart aflutter. He was floating in a heaven of his own. Jim half skipped, half walked from the transport site.

 

The city looked so beautiful tonight. The lakes gleamed sapphire blue; the trees shimmered pearly white. Had it always been this mesmerizing?

 

His sandwich had tasted delicious, too. And now his lungs seemed to have so much more room suddenly. He had never noticed how wonderful Axanar's air smelled, as he passed under a tree, blooming magenta flowers.

 

Bumbles dutifully appeared out of nowhere. The rest of the Axanaris were asleep somewhere below their feet. It was quiet and peaceful.

Jim smiled widely at Bumbles. "Hey! What's up?"

 

His Axanari guide peered at Jim with big eyes.

"What has always been up is still up."

 

Jim howled with laughter at that. "Sorry, it's a human phrase. I meant to ask how are you?"

 

"I am walking with a human who should be asleep at this hour. Yet, he is as energetic as a child now. I also have never seen him with red cheeks." Bumbles replied.

 Jim laughed again.

 

"Want to race to my room?" Jim asked.

"Race?" Bumbles looked perplexed.

"Yes, we run together and whoever reaches first, wins."

"Wins what, my brother?"

"Just wins. C'mon. On the count of three, ready?"

 

Bumbles looked around a little alarmed, as if preparing for an attack.

 

Jim counted, "One...Two...Three...GO!" Jim shot off. He ran for a few seconds and turned to see if Bumbles was gaining on him. The Axanari stood like a statue, at the point where Jim had left him; looking so confused that Jim stopped running and doubled over with laughter.

 

"All right, I will teach you later. Let's just walk our way back." Jim wiped his tears.

They walked back to his room, Bumbles shooting glances at him but Jim just kept grinning back.

 

 

 

 


	43. Choices and paths

For the next few days, Jim hardly had time to even breathe. The huge meeting hall had turned into a slightly chaotic circus, with every one working furiously to finish the document. There was a constant chatter going on, as discussions and disagreements between and within groups continued all day. But, both sides were eager to co-operate and it was the good kind of madness.

 

Jim's concentration was back. He flew through the hundreds of words, with laser beam like focus, making notes on the points he wanted Commodore Bailey to know about.  Even then, by second day, Jim realized, he needed to work longer than the others, else he was becoming the bottleneck. So, he started staying up late after the others were done.

 

Each night, exhausted, he still went up to the ship for a short visit, because not seeing Spock was like not getting oxygen. Spock looked better with every passing day. He could walk to the head now and started shaving by himself and took his first shower.

 

By the evening of the fourth day, the final word on the historic document was put in. A cheer went up around the room. That night, the leaders signed, exchanged greetings, bowed and shook hands.

 

The Humans and Axanaris bid farewell to each other and guest quarters were vacated.

 

"You’ve been the kindest, noblest, and just an amazing friend to me,” Jim choked up trying to find words to say bye to Bumbles. "May be someday you will visit my planet."

"Take care of yourself, little one. I hope we meet again someday, as well," his friend replied.

 

Xena and Xena Jr. came by to see him off.

"I owe you, we all owe you, thank you for what you did," Jim told Xena.

"We are a family now, you owe me nothing. Do not forget that you are a peace warrior. Do not stop fighting for peace," Xena replied, fierce as ever.

 

"I won't,” Jim smiled. Xena Jr. tugged at his tunic and then thrust out a hand. The little Axanari was holding a soft rectangle shape item.

Jim went down on one knee, and accepted the gift with a smile. He unfolded the curious silk-like textile. Inside was etched a breathtaking scenery of pine trees and reindeers, against the back drop of Axanar sky and sand dunes. It was painted in colorful luminous inks, nothing like Jim had ever seen. Jim's eyes went wide.

 

"Did you paint this?" He asked

"Yes," Xena Jr. replied proudly.

Jim noticed the script scrawled on the bottom right and looked up at Xena. "What does this say?"

"It means 'for the one whose eyes glow’," she replied.

 

Jim looked back at Xena Jr, - his heart so full of emotions, he felt like he would explode.

"Thank you, I treasure your gift."

 

The peace delegation started moving towards the transport site, led by the leaders.

Xena leaned towards him, and spoke in a low voice, "How is your mate? Does he survive?"

"Yes. He is on the ship, and the ship doctor is taking care of him. He is recovering but yes, he will survive, thanks to you."

Xena looked at him with her huge eyes. "When you are older, you may sometimes forget that once you had wanted to fight the monsters of the night with bare hands, to revive him. I hope though, you will choose to remember instead. Life without a mate is empty. I know this. May you both have centuries together, my brother," her voice was different than he had ever heard till now.

 

Jim just nodded, trying to swallow the lump in his throat.

 

She didn’t know - he didn't have centuries, just few months.

 

After living for one month in the city of Borkahm, Jim was transported the final time back to the ship, along with the entire peace delegation. It was past mid-night as per the human circadian system followed on the ship. Commodore Bailey headed to the bridge and the others took up their various stations.

USS Gandhi started her victorious voyage back to home, her mission accomplished.

 

Jim was sleep deprived, dog-tired and fighting to keep all the feelings inside him from overflowing. He stumbled his way to the med-bay, stepped into Spock's room and closed the door quietly behind him.

 

Spock was sitting cross legged on the bio-bed, under sheets, looking refreshed and serene, even so late at night. He was reading on his PADD.

 

Jim pulled up a chair next to him and slumped over, wordlessly, inches away from Spock's legs. He rested his head on his folded arms on the bed, and looked up at Spock with half-closed eyes.

 

Spock's expression changed ever so slightly, hardly any muscle moving on his face, but Jim could read concern in those eyes. Jim studied the face drowsily - long slanted eyebrows, black eyelashes, high cheekbones and pale pink lips.

 

 

"Jim, you must go to your room and sleep. You require rest," Spock finally spoke up.

"I don wanna go."

"Jim, please."

"No, I want to be here, with you."

"It is -  it is not appropriate. Dr. Muamba will not approve."

"I don care," Jim's eyes closed, his body no longer listening to him. He buried his face in his arms, fighting sleep. "Spock?"

"Yes, Jim?"

"When does your mission start? On Enterprise?"

"The exact date is yet to be confirmed. However, the ship's refitting is expected to be complete by July of this year. After that, I believe, it will only be a matter of formality before the mission commences."

"And you are okay with that?" Jim looked up bleary-eyed.

 

Spock hesitated.

"I do not understand," he slowly replied.

"You will leave, Spock. And we may never meet again. That doesn't bother you?" Jim pushed himself off the bed and leaned back into the chair, with his hands crossed behind his head.

 

Spock didn't reply immediately. But his eyes seemed to be trying to say a million things. They sat looking at each other.

 

Then, Spock looked down at his PADD, turned it off and set it aside, taking his time. Jim waited, he could tell Spock had something to say and he was rearranging his thoughts.

 

"I have indeed given it considerable thought. According to StarFleet Regulations, 03-3823-3893: Assignment of Starfleet Operational Support Officers, the Captain of a vessel has the authority to request and recommend any personnel."

 

Jim rubbed his eyes with the back of his fists. Since Spock had regained consciousness, his need for sleep seemed to have doubled. All that lying awake at nights must be catching up with him.

"Okay, and?" Jim asked, confused.

"You need rest, Jim."

"I'll sleep but first explain," Jim persisted.

 

Spock actually sighed softly. Jim had never seen him make such a human gesture.

"I am trying to offer a solution to our dilemma. You will have the authority as a Captain to request my assignment to your ship."

 

Jim stared at Spock. "You have- you've done all this research? When?"

"Soon after we started eating morning meals together," Spock replied in a low voice.

"That far back?"

"Yes," Spock was looking down again, averting Jim's gaze.

 

"Spock!" Jim reached out towards his Vulcan, moved beyond words, and then he remembered the consequences of touching Spock. He pulled his hand back abruptly.

 

 Jim heard the door open, and Dr. Muamba's loud voice assaulted his ears.

"James!" A pair of strong hands lifted him up from his reclining position and made him stand. Jim started protesting but he was cut off.

 

"Don't try to argue, young man. You have worked yourself to exhaustion."

 

Jim blinked and found himself staring into an angry face. He gave up; he didn't have energy to argue. "Good night, Spock," he mumbled.

"Cadet Kirk," Spock's spine had gone back to ramrod straight and he was a picture of formality - his expression blank, his eyes looking straight ahead at the wall.

 

Jim followed Dr. Muamba out of the room, but before closing the door, he turned, looked back at Spock and mouthed silently, _"I will miss you."_

A pair of fathomless dark eyes stared back.

 

The Doctor dragged Jim straight to their room.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Spock extended his right hand in front of him. He pressed his palm on the soft sheet; it was still warm from when Jim had laid his head down. Jim's appearance had been disheveled and Spock's hand had twitched to reach out and smooth over his tired human's hair. But he had succeeded in controlling himself.

 

Then, Jim had retracted his own arm and that gesture stuck in Spock's side like a barb.

 

It had been less than a week that Spock had made his resolution and already he was struggling. Being reminded of how little time they had left, before his five year mission started, only worsened his suffering. _What if there would be no joint missions in their future? What if he perished in some space mishap? And never see Jim again? Never be touched again?_

Spock's hands bunched up the sheets roughly. This realization, this misery, was unbearably painful.

 

It had been less distressing to face his death - to know that his agony would end.

 

Spock had an epiphany - he was more afraid to live than to die. Because with every second that he lived, he was closer to bringing shame on himself and his family.

He was not sure anymore if he was strong enough to uphold his promise - his vow to T'pring. Perhaps, he was not so honorable after all. Perhaps, he was truly inferior as the bullies from his childhood had taunted. He was willing to touch Jim and be touched, to commit infidelity - that was how far he had fallen.

 

 _Shame! Such shame!_ Spock closed his eyes, held his head in both hands and fell onto the bed. He curled into a fetal position and rocked his head side to side, trembling with the humiliating truth of his existence.

 

He searched far and deep, for some relief, some solace in Surak's teaching. There had to be some way to save his integrity.

If he kept being faithful to T'pring, then what was he doing with Jim? He could see it in his human's eyes that unable to touch Spock pained him. His bond with Jim had become so much stronger, more than any other in his brain. And the bond demanded its right it was due.

 

But, if he kept being tormented by the thought of touching his t'hy'la, and gave in, then he would be doomed forever to live in eternal shame -  turning into philander. The lowliest of Vulcans.

 

There had to be _some_ way out of this fire – his _katra_ cried for mercy. Spock crushed his temples in his hands, as tremor rocked through him.  _Shame!_

"Mr. Spock!" Dr. Muamba's words slashed through Spock's haze of grief. The Doctor found him in the curled up position on the bed, and Spock's hearing finally picked up the shrill beeps from the machines. His breakdown had alerted the Doctor.

"Spock!" It was Jim's voice.

 

Spock slowly forced himself to come to sitting position. The Doctor was already helping with gentle hands.

 

"Mr. Spock, I must know what is going on! Help me out here, you’re already aware that I’m not proficient in your anatomy," Dr. Muamba asked.

 

Spock was breathing hard, his eyes still shut. He opened them slowly and saw two very concerned human faces looking at him. Jim, who must have barely slept, was looking stricken; his eyes red and wide open in panic.

 

"Doctor," Spock spoke hoarsely, "Vulcans feel emotions manifold stronger than humans. I am ashamed that I keep causing you unnecessary anxiety due to my inability to modulate my internal state. I should be able to do it by now. A proper Vulcan would. However, I am failing."

 

Dr. Muamba was waving a tricorder over him. He read the screen and then reached up to the monitors. "I am muting these," he said.

"It looks like this is making you feel embarrassed. You are my patient and there is absolutely nothing you can do to bother me unnecessarily, however, from what I have observed, you don't like to be caught this way. I think that's understandable. I guess I wouldn't feel too good either, if my private thoughts were exposed to others every time I was having them."

 

"Thank you," Spock replied, extremely grateful to this medical man.

 

"I’m still worried though. While you work on mastering these emotions, I need to keep you stable, because your body and brain are still very vulnerable. Let me put you on some mild anti-anxiety drugs and sedatives," the doctor was readying a Hypo.

"It's temporary, please don't be concerned." Dr. Muamba stuck a hypo in Spock.

 

Spock looked at Jim, who had been silent after the first exclamation. Jim was standing near the door, arms crossed, looking thoughtful, chewing on his lower lip.

 

Dr. Muamba covered Spock with sheets and adjusted his bio-bed. "Please try to rest," he instructed in the same gentle tone.

 

Spock nodded.

 

They were about to leave when Jim broke his silence.

"Spock, did I say something earlier to upset you?"

 

Spock was afraid of this. He did not want Jim to feel that he had done anything wrong. Yet, he could not lie that it wasn't Jim's mention of their limited time that had been some of the catalyst. He hesitated, struggling to find an answer - what the Humans called a tactful one.

 

Jim seemed to take his silence as some answer of his own.

"Don't worry, Spock. I think it's best I don't visit you anymore," Jim looked up at Dr. Muamba as if for approval. The Doctor turned to Spock and asked, "I will defer to the patient, James. Mr. Spock wanted you in here when he came out of coma, after all."

 

Both men stood waiting for Spock to reply.

 

And Spock chose the path of shame. "I request continued presence of Cadet Kirk."

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

2253.1,  En-route to Earth.

 

2050 hours, Jan 19th.

 

 

 

Jim stretched in his bunk and stifled a yawn. He rolled over to see the chronometer on his side table. He had slept the entire day! After they had come back to their room, Dr. Muamba had firmly instructed him to take a sleeping pill.

 

He jumped down from the bunk, extended his hands above his head and yawned again. Time for a shower!

He took a long time standing in water, letting his muscles become pliant under the pulsating streams. A luxury that came with ships this size, since all the water was continuously sanitized and recycled, unless they were in an alert status.

 

Jim was worried that he couldn't figure out what was going on with Spock. But, it did have something to do with what he said yesterday.

His mind ran over every sentence he could remember that they had exchanged. At that time, Spock had seemed okay. It had felt like they were both on the same page. Yet, somehow Jim had triggered in Spock such a strong reaction that his Vulcan had literally collapsed under the onslaught of emotions.

 

Was it not his words then? Was it something he did?

 

Jim inhaled sharply, while the jet streams from above bounced off his shoulders, as he remembered his impulsive action of reaching out. That must be it. The last time he knew of Spock behaving so uncharacteristically was their fight in his Academy room. Both involved physical touch, which Jim already knew was a big no-no.

 

No, wait, that was not correct. Spock had reacted similarly when he had woken up from coma. At that time, Jim had guessed that, it was because he was leaving Spock's room.

Also, Spock certainly didn't blow up in smoke when Jim had kissed him goodnight on his head.

 

_So, what the heck did Spock want?_

 

He chose to towel himself dry, instead of the full-body dryer. Once he had brushed and shaved, he dressed in normal StarFleet uniform and left his room to go to the ship's mess hall to grab a bite.

 

The ship felt different from last few days. There were people everywhere; the atmosphere was back to lively. He passed several crew members on his way to med-bay and nodded in greeting.

Inside, two women were getting some hypo shots from Dr. Muamba. When the older man saw Jim, he nodded, "Cadet Kirk, you are next in line, have a seat."

 

Jim masked his surprise and sat down on one of the bio-beds. As soon as the two women were done and left the area, the Doctor turned to him, "The Commodore wants to make sure you’re not seen entering my private office while any crew member is in here. It would raise suspicion, given you are a Cadet on this ship, the junior most crew rank."

 

"Oh okay, that makes sense."

The Doctor smiled and waved him towards his office door. Jim slipped into Spock's temporary quarters, feeling a little like a burglar with all this sneaking-in business.

 

Spock was with Andreas, up on his feet. It looked like they had moved from walking to doing squats now. Spock was dressed in the usual medical bay clothes, his black undershirt peeking from the deep cut of the blue overalls.

 

Andreas looked up and smiled at Jim. "Would you like to take over, Sir?"

Jim's eyes fell on Andreas’ big strong hands on Spock's body. He swallowed. He wanted so badly to be in Andreas’ place.

 

"No, thank you. You are the most qualified," Jim replied easily and settled on Spock's bed.

When he looked at his Vulcan, he thought he saw a trace of some emotion flicker in those dark eyes, before Spock went back to his usual stoic self.

 Jim was used to Spock's formal persona whenever they were not alone. Lately, the more they had become closer, the sharper was the contrast.

 

"I'll be done in five minutes," Andreas replied.

 

Jim busied himself with his PADD which he had brought, not wanting to gawk at Spock and embarrass himself thoroughly. But he couldn't help notice through his peripheral vision that Spock's leg trembled under the strain of the squats. Nothing of course came out of Spock's mouth in protest. All this hard work because he had been injured in the line of duty.

Jim's heart hurt at how much Spock gave of himself selflessly, asking nothing in return from anyone.

 

 At least Jim knew that his friendship was reciprocated. Spock may not ask anything from anyone else, but he did want Jim to be with him.

 

 

_I was desperate to see you again, Jim._

_I am honored to be in your company._

_You are my las’hark -_ whatever that meant, it had sounded like the most amazing thing in the universe.

 

_Vulcans do not gamble, but if they did, I would say the same about you._

 

_It is my duty to keep you safe._

The first time Spock had showed up for breakfast, clearly out of his element but worrying about Jim.

The time Spock had volunteered to accompany Jim on their trip, not even knowing where Jim was taking him and why.

The way Spock had looked at him that evening in the rain. The way Spock always looked at him, when they were alone.

Then this whole saga of Axanar and it had started because apparently the smart-ass had been investigating behind his back about Finnegan.

Spock sitting by his bedside for 6 hours when Jim had himself battled death.

 

 

May be his Vulcan loved him? May be this is how Vulcans loved? Just not the same way as Jim did.

And that was okay, Jim mused, his eyes on his PADD, reading not a single word.

 

Spock had never pretended to be anything else. Jim knew from day one that this was a Vulcan he was getting involved with. It was not fair to expect him to become suddenly all human. Wasn't it enough that Spock had been abandoned by his own father for taking the human path? He was already living on Earth, eating Earth food, working with Earthmen, surrounded day and night with everything human.  

 

And Jim knew at that moment. He would give Spock what he didn't ask openly - he would love this selfless and amazing being unconditionally, and keep his own human needs to himself.

Jim had always been a physical guy. This is how he expressed his feelings. To everyone. Yes, it hurt him to not be able to kiss his Vulcan, or hug him, or even just brush his fingers against Spock's skin.

 

What would he choose? To walk away from the relationship which had redefined Jim? Spock completed him in ways Jim didn't even fully understand himself.

 

"Jim?" Spock's voice cut through his reverie. His head jerked up and he realized they were alone. Andreas had left and Jim hadn't even noticed.

 

"Sorry, lost in my thoughts," Jim smiled up at Spock, unable to hide the sudden outpour of love which had flooded his heart.

 

Spock's expression responded to what must have been visible on Jim's face.

 

"How are you, Spock?" Jim's voice was affected too, laden with so much emotion, that it shook slightly.

 

Spock heard that. Dark brown eyes turned liquid as they looked at him, searching something and trying to tell other things. His Vulcan stood by the bedside, still as a statue, except for his eyes.

 

And Jim chose the path which led to Spock. It was not a sacrifice to love Spock the Vulcan way - it was a privilege.

 

 

"Spock," Jim whispered, "whatever it is that is bothering you, just know that I'm with you. You don't have to tell me, okay? I just - I'll walk through hell with you."

 

 

Spock closed his eyes, and his fingers curled into tight fists by his sides. "Jim."

 

They were inches apart. Spock was standing, the veins on his neck popping from whatever he was struggling with, and Jim was sitting on the bed, looking up at the play of emotions on the face he cherished.

But because this is who they were, Jim just kept sitting quietly. His hands didn't stray outward. He would love Spock this way and he would never stop.

 

He didn't have centuries - he would make the most out of every precious second he had.

 

Spock took a deep breath and opened his eyes. "It may not be hell, Jim, but close enough."

 

Jim stared. "I mean it, Spock."

 

"I know, Jim." Spock's voice was almost back to the deep baritone. He exhaled slowly and then looked past Jim, his gaze somewhere far away, "If there are self-made purgatories, then we all have to live in them."

 

"Hey, look at me," Jim spoke softly. His Vulcan was battling with demons. Jim knew demons well enough himself.

 

Spock's gaze dropped to Jim. "If that is what you believe, then just remember, yours can't be any worse than anyone else's, okay? And I'm with you, purgatory or hell or whatever the universe throws at us."

 

Spock opened his mouth to say something but then took a step forward till his knees bumped into the bed. Jim looked up with confusion, his own damn heart starting to race.

 

There was a knock on the door. They both almost jumped out of their skins. Spock took a long step back and was standing a respectable distance away, when Dr. Muamba’s head peeked in.  Jim found it mildly hilarious that the Doctor had started knocking now.

“James, the Commodore wants to see you.”

“Me? Okay, thank you!” Jim hopped down from the bed and shrugged at Spock. What did the Commodore want now? Not a new assignment he hoped.

 

 

 

 

The Captain’s cabin looked regal as Jim nervously fidgeted while the Commodore made himself a cup of tea from his personal synthesizer.

“So, Mr. Kirk, I wanted to let you know about our arrival.”

The Commodore sat down at his desk and sipped.

“We’ll have a hero’s welcome, son.  You’ll draw a big crowd, so be prepared. You will have to give interviews and have your face shown everywhere as soon as we step down from the ship.“

“Understood, Sir.”

“Andreas will discreetly escort Mr. Spock out, once the rest of the crew has debarked. We hope that everyone’s attention will be on you and us. I am not sure if Dr. Muamba has decided whether Mr. Spock needs to be in the Academy hospital or not. I think he will make a final decision by tomorrow before we reach home. Captain Pike and I have been in contact, though, and all is good. I’ll hand over the evidence to him personally, sounds good?”

“Yes, Sir. It has been an absolute honor and pleasure, Sir. I am grateful for the opportunity,” Jim replied.

“I should be thanking you. You blew my expectations out of the water. I look forward to watching your career flourish, son.”

The Commodore nodded and Jim took that as his cue for dismissal.

 

_Earth! By tomorrow night they would be back. San Francisco hadn’t been the same since Spock had left. But now Spock would be back in Jim’s life._

_They would pick up the pieces and restart from where they had left off._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. las'hark - name for Vulcan's sun.
> 
>    
> 2\. “This Side of Paradise”, Star Trek TOS :-
> 
> LEILA: I love you. I said that six years ago, and I can't seem to stop repeating myself. On Earth, you couldn't give anything of yourself. You couldn't even put your arms around me. We couldn't have anything together there. We couldn't have anything together anyplace else. We're happy here. (crying) I can't lose you now, Mister Spock. I can't.  
> SPOCK: I have a responsibility to this ship, to that man on the Bridge. I am what I am, Leila, and if there are self-made purgatories, then we all have to live in them. Mine can be no worse than someone else's.
> 
>  
> 
> 3\. “The Naked Time”, Star Trek TOS :- 
> 
> KIRK: Where have you been? What happened?  
> SPOCK: My mother. I could never tell her I loved her.  
> KIRK: We've got four minutes, maybe five.  
> SPOCK: An Earth woman, living on a planet where love, emotion, is bad taste.  
> KIRK: We've got to risk a full-power start. The engines were shut off. No time to regenerate them. Do you hear me? We've got to risk a full-power start!  
> SPOCK: I respected my father, our customs. I was ashamed of my Earth blood. (Kirk slaps him)  
> Jim, when I feel friendship for you, I'm ashamed.
> 
> 4\. Look at the comment made by my friend, Yeneffer, below. It shows how language can change the meaning of a powerful moment. If you are non-native speaker, I urge you to look up this dialogue in English, and understand the meaning.


	44. Promises to keep

 

 

 

 

Spock felt a brief flash of an emotion he rarely felt in its truest form - anger.

Anger towards Dr. Muamba.

Towards Commodore Bailey.

The circumstances.

For the time together, Jim and he deserved, and weren't getting.

The universe seemed to be conspiring against them. These were some of the most illogical thoughts but nevertheless that's how he felt. Their limited time together seemed to always come secondary to their duty. And Spock for once, needed duty to take a hind seat in his life.

 

Now that he had chosen a path, he was eager to start walking on it. Indecisiveness was not in Spock's nature. He would not revisit the contradictory swirls of emotions anymore. The road which lay ahead wasn’t easy, but there was no ambiguity anymore.

 

Spock walked back to his bed as Jim's last words played back in his mind.

"Yours can be no worse than others’."

 

Unknown to Jim, his human had provided a balm to his bleeding heart. There was great comfort in knowing that he was not the most wretched being; that perhaps, Jim understood what these self-made purgatories were. And Jim had still chosen very clearly and very firmly, to be with him.

 

Spock turned on the computer Andreas had brought in for him earlier.

 

If Jim had always been the one to take the first step, this time, Spock had to find the courage to do the same. It was his decision and Jim could not be expected to understand the internal metamorphosis he had gone through.

Spock had to find a way to talk to Jim and for that they needed time and space. Away from duties and formalities.

 

Spock made up his mind. He knew what he had to do. Now he just had to execute his idea.

 

He started working on the computer, in complete concentration, his evening meditation forgotten.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

The next afternoon, Commodore Bailey's voice boomed all over the ship as he announced their final approach to Earth. The excitement in the air was infectious. Jim had been with Ensign Cayne, all day, going over how to speak to the press. Now, they stood in the observation deck, watching as the tiny speck of blue slowly bloomed. He could make out the oceans and the patches of clouds on his home planet.

 

_Shoot!_

"I will be right back," Jim exclaimed, turning around on his heels.

"We don't have time! You are among the first to get off, Cadet!" Ensign Cayne called after him.

"I know! I'll be back in a moment!" Jim ran out of the deck, found the turbo lift vacant thankfully and skidded to a halt by the med-bay doors.

 

There was no one around; most of the crewmembers were already ready to leave ship or manning their stations, as their ship approached the space dock.

Jim opened the door to Spock's room. Inside Andreas and Spock looked up at him in surprise. They seemed to be waiting patiently for the entire ship to be vacated before they could leave.

 

"Spock!"

"Cadet Kirk!" Spock couldn't keep the surprise from reaching his voice.

 

"I need to give you my number! Do you have something to write on? Make it quick!" Jim hopped from one foot to another.

He was dressed smartly, about to be the poster boy for their mission.

"You may recite it to me verbally," Spock replied, his eyes betraying a touch of what-are-you-doing-Jim look.

So Jim rattled of his number and then rushed out of the room, shouting behind his back,

"Message me! Or I will pass out!"

 

He reached back just in time to join the first group who left the ship and boarded the space shuttle which took them down to StarFleet's arrival hangar.

 

Jim's eyebrows shot up when he saw the crowd waiting for them. Commodore Bailey wasn’t kidding.

 

As soon as he had stepped out of the shuttle, the noise hit his ears. It was like a physical blow to his senses.

Jim gingerly climbed down, feeling weird at how the air smelled and how warm and bright everything was around them. He had forgotten just how different Earth was, after the constant darkness of space and the different lighting at Axanar. He even felt a difference in the pull of gravity as his body adjusted to walking on familiar land again.

 

The press conference was being held on the open grounds of the Fleet headquarters. It was late afternoon in San Francisco and the sky look blue and clear. Jim answered questions while he reveled in the simplest of sights - trees swaying in the wind and birds flying overhead.

 

After an hour of fielding questions, he had a break for a few minutes before the photo-shoot would begin.

All around him people were being interviewed. There were several senior officials present.

Someone from StarFleet made him sit in a chair, and went to work over his hair and face, to Jim's surprise. While expert fingers pulled and tugged at his hair and sprayed a gazillion items on him, Jim felt his communicator buzz in his pocket.

 

He took it out for the first time since landing. The screen lighted up and for the next few seconds at least a hundred messages downloaded, backdating to the day he had left Earth. Jim scrolled through the list, looking for a name he wanted to see.

 

Finally, there it was! Bones!

"Jim, I hope you're doing okay, kid. It's boring without you around here. Ruth has been moping too."  This was dated two days after Jim had left.

"Hey Bones! I am back! Where are you, man? I am at this fancy press conference thing, on the grounds. It seems the entire Academy is out here. Find me!" Jim typed back.

 

Then, he kept scrolling and reading messages from all his friends. He looked for any message from Ruth, but there were none.

 

Something was being applied to his cheeks with brisk movements, when a new message flashed on his screen.

"Greetings."

It was an unknown number.

Jim frowned. "Who is this?"

"This is Spock."

"Spock! Who says Greetings?" Jim chuckled, shaking his head, and promptly got a scolding, along with further instructions to hold still while his face got thoroughly abused.

"I have deliberated for the past 15 minutes on how to initiate conversation in this medium."

"It's just me! Just talk the way you usually do."

"I shall attempt to do so."

 

Jim's lips curled into a smile. Spock had probably never texted anyone without a solid official reason before. He suddenly had the urge to see his Vulcan's face.

"Where are you? Is Andreas still with you?"

"Negative. I am in my apartment."

"So, no one saw you? Everything went smooth?"

"Affirmative."

 

"You are still being really formal, as if we are being observed. I didn't get to talk to you since yesterday. How are u feeling?"

Jim waited for a reply, and went back to scrolling. He started reading messages from Bones. His friend had left him a message every single day it seemed.

 

His heart started sinking slowly as he read more and more. There were messages about the mission Bones was going to lead. Then, he reached the last message which was dated 15 days from current, and it was a farewell message.

Bones had left and Ruth had as well. Apparently, on the same mission. Jim had feared this. But, he was not ready to face it. Lately, it felt like he had no time left with the people he had come to value most in life.

 

 

After a couple of minutes, when no answer came from Spock, Jim suddenly got worried.

"Spock? Are you ok?"

"Yes, Jim. Please do not be concerned." _Spock had finally switched from affirmative to yes. Some progress._

"Well, you didn't answer how are u feeling?"

"I am feeling strangely distressed. I find unable to concentrate on anything. I believe I am missing you, Jim."

 

Jim almost dropped his communicator. He stared at the screen while his heart took off like a crazy bird. The only time Spock had admitted to that was immediately after getting out of coma. It was Jim who had been consistently adding that line to his goodnights lately.

"Jim?"

Jim hurriedly typed back. "Sorry. I'm a little speechless. God, I am missin you too. Like crazy."

"I am curious about your current activities."

"Am being prepped for some photo shoot. I gave several interviews before this. Basically, it's been a circus since the moment I stepped off."

"How are you being 'prepped'?"

"Someone is messing with my hair and face. I dunno what they're trying to achieve, not much good it would do, ha!"

"I find this information highly unpleasant."

 

Jim's mouth opened slightly. _Was Spock trying to say he is jealous?!_

 

"What u doin?"

"Jim, the quality of your language is declining."

 

Jim chuckled.

"It's how ppl text, now tell me what u doin?"

"I am preparing for an experiment."

"Already?! Wow, ok. I guess u don't want to be disturbed then." Jim was trying to be polite and not behave like a clingy child.

"On the contrary, this experiment requires your presence."

 

"Seriously?" Jim was intrigued.

"When does your community engagement exercise end?"

 

Jim covered his screen with his palm, while he asked his makeup-artist the very same question.

"Another hour. There's a dinner reception afterwards, which I absolutely don't want to attend."

"I see. Then, I would like to take this opportunity to remind you of a promise once made."

 

A bulb went on in Jim's head right then.

"Spock, is this experiment related to the promise?"

"Yes."

 

Jim put down his communicator and looked up at the sky. _What the hell was Spock trying to do? What happened to self-made purgatories?_

"Am I to interpret your silence as retraction of the promise?"

"NO! nooooooo!!! I am just a little shocked. So we are talking about my invitation to Idaho over summer, right?"

"That is correct."

 

Jim swallowed. He had been clueless about the extent of his feelings, when he had offered a trip to Idaho. Now, he felt nervous. Just him and Spock - what if he screwed up and did something stupid, like oh may be, touch Spock?

"Okay. I'm listening. Summer break is like 5 months from today, though? Don't get me wrong, I am just confused."

"If you are amenable to accompanying me, then I will collect you at 1930 hours from the front entrance of the grounds."

"Wait! what?! Collect me for what?" Jim was slightly hyperventilating now.

"Idaho."

 

This time Jim gasped in shock. His make-up artist looked at him suspiciously.

 

Jim looked around himself to double-check he was indeed awake. He was then told he was ready for the photo-shoot. When offered a mirror to check his appearance, he waved it off - his mind was elsewhere, his stomach in knots.

 

While he walked over to the photo-shoot location, where a makeshift screen had been erected as background, he typed, "We're goin to Idaho tonight?"

"Unless you have objections."

"I don't. I gotta smile for the holocams now. I will see you @1930? But Spock, my clothes? I need to pack? We need to book a hover? And your leg?"

"All arrangements have been made. If you give me your room code, I will pack for you while you attend to your duties."

 

Butterflies assaulted Jim's stomach more like dinosaurs stomping around.

"388dff34!  And umm, pack the olive green shirt, and the black one with the collar. Wait, how many days?"

"Classes begin in three days, Jim. Once the winter break ends."

"Ok, yeah, you can choose whatever else you think I need. Ok bye! See u!"

"I will wait, Jim."

 

Jim went through the PR stuff like a zombie. _They were going to Idaho?! Spock had planned all this? When?!_ It was going to so cold there though now. He had to warn Spock to pack winter clothes.

 

Finally, Jim could slip away once dinner and speeches started. No one paid attention to him anymore.

 

Giddy with excitement, nervousness and a thousand feelings waging a war inside him, Jim reached the pick-up point with twenty minutes to spare.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

Spock's own possessions were already neatly packed and ready to go. Idaho weather, as per the computer, was going to be the coldest he had ever experienced. Accordingly, Spock had dressed in multiple layers under his uniform. However, he lacked suitable outerwear and footwear, for the wilderness of arctic characteristics, they were headed towards.

 

Spock's StarFleet credentials had been re-instated as per the message he had read from Captain Pike. Carrying his luggage in one hand, he exited his building, and walked through the campus.

 

Spock relished the ability to walk confidently. His leg felt strong and steady under his weight. Dr. Muamba had cleared him that morning, with instructions to engage in physical exercise regularly so he could build back the muscle mass he had lost.

 

He went to the first years' building first. If Jim needed an outerwear as well, he would procure both at the same time. Keying in Jim's code, he stepped inside the room. It was different than Spock remembered. None of Jim's personal items were strewn about. Spock felt a jab of sadness at the cleanliness. There was something clinical about the empty room which felt at odds with Jim's personality.

 

Spock couldn't help but look at the wall where Jim had pinned him. And then, at the bed, where they had battled with each other and with their own selves. The memories of that night would never leave Spock.

 

What Jim hadn't known and could not know, but Spock now understood, was that Jim’s behavior had never been at fault. What Jim had felt had been manageable. It was Spock's own loss of control that had broken through the bond. The result was that Spock's powerful emotions invaded Jim's brain and caused Jim to be overwhelmed. It was the back and forth through the bond, as they fed on each other’s mounting desire that led to the crescendo.

Spock had known about the theoretical workings of a bond but having never experienced Ponn Farr, he had been unprepared for the force with which Jim and his own mind had collided and merged that night. He had gone as far as to mark Jim on the shoulder before the cold realization of Jim's physical pain had finally stopped him in his tracks.

 

Spook took a deep breath. Now, the bond was several times stronger and there would be no stopping it, if he ever slipped too far.

He had to walk a dangerous path. The only question was whether Jim was willing to walk along with him. He would know that answer in Idaho. Jim had promised to walk through hell with him. Hell was indeed what Spock had to offer.

 

Shaking himself out of his woolgathering, he focused on the task at hand. He was grateful that Jim had once entrusted him to pack for him, so now he knew, what to do. He found the bag Jim had taken to Mendocino and packed as many clothes he could fit in.

When Spock opened one of the drawers, his eyes fell on a small bottle.

Spock slowly picked up the bottle and read the contents - a combination of mood-stabilizers and powerful sedatives. The bottle still had one pill remaining. Spock knew the use of the medicinal compounds. The prescription was from Dr. McCoy.

_Had Jim been suffering such severe stress while Spock was gone? Why?_

Shaken by this discovery, he proceeded to pack Jim's toiletries. He remembered that Jim preferred to pack everything he owned even if he used a fraction of those on the trip. So, that's what he did.

 

When he stepped into the bathroom, he eyes fell on a sheet of paper affixed to the bathroom mirror.

 

Spock read through what appeared to be a list. He stared in sheer disbelief as realization dawned upon him.

 

_Jim had needed a list to remind him of the most basic daily functions? To eat? To brush teeth?_

 

Jim's words from their conversation earlier came back to him - "Do you know when you left, I almost -" 

Almost, what? Almost lost sanity? Almost gave up on life?

 

The toiletries bag clattered to the floor and the contents spilled out. Spock sank down on his knees and sat still - shocked to the core. 

 

His communicator vibrated in his pocket. Still dazed, Spock took it out, and read the message.

"Hey! I'm all done! Waiting at the front. Btw, get my winter jacket and boots. They r on the bottom shelf. And we have to get for you too. I am soooooo excited, Spock!"

 

Spock held the communicator in both hands and brought it to his forehead. _Oh Jim! K'hat'n'dlawa!_

 

"Spock? U there?"

 

Spock took a deep breath. His fingers trembled as he typed the reply.

"I will meet you there shortly, with the required items."

 

 

Spock got up numbly and completed the packing. Both luggage with him now, he walked briskly to the campus store and selected the heaviest overcoat he could find. He meditated lightly as he went through all these steps, trying to bring some equilibrium back to his shattered mind.

 

Jim was excited and Spock needed to close this gaping wound which had erupted on his soul. He had to stop shaking before he met the man who was so kind and so selfless that he had never wanted Spock to know just how much he had suffered.

 

If Spock had any lingering doubts over this whole impulsive idea of going to Idaho, they vanished.

 

Jim was clearly experiencing joy because of Spock's actions. That is ALL that mattered. Spock had to try to repair the damage he had apparently caused. He had to re-evaluate how much Jim was affected by the bond.

 

 

He reminded himself again that this was the path he had chosen. Similar to how at the age of seven, he had chosen to be a Vulcan over his human half. And at the age of twenty, he had chosen to come to StarFleet Academy.

These were all his choices. He alone was to bear the consequences.

 

 Jim asked for nothing. But could Spock give him anything?

 

Happiness was not a state of mind Spock had experienced in his life except for the fleeting moments, when he had been with Jim, away from his responsibilities. His own destiny lay written in front of him - destined to a life of internal battle.

 

However, inexplicable though it might be, he did make Jim happy. This is what he would give Jim, then. To the extent he could, he would make Jim happy. He would try to let go when it was just the two of them.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

Half an hour passed. Spock was late, this was a first! 

 

Finally, a hover craft came to a stop, where Jim was standing. Heart beating like crazy, Jim approached it and climbed in. His eyes met Spock's and he grinned.

 

"We are doing this? You're taking me to Idaho?" He put on his seat belt as he looked at Spock.

"Indeed."

"It's going to be freezing I have to warn you. I had planned to take you in summer, you know."

"I believe I am adequately prepared," Spock pointed to the luggage in the back of their seats. Jim glanced back and chuckled. It looked like they were going to the North Pole itself.

 

When Jim's eyes returned to meet Spock's, they were that liquid warm color, which melted Jim's insides.

 

 _All right! Keep your hands to yourself! He is going way out of his comfort zone to do this, so you better behave!_ Jim reminded himself in a severe tone. He shoved his hands into his pockets.

 

They sat side by side as the hovercraft took off.

 

"You will need to program in the co-ordinates, Jim," Spock spoke quietly.

"Oh! Right!" Jim unclasped his belt and leaned over the navigation console. He punched in the location of his uncle's remote cabin up in the mountains of Idaho's Salmon River.

 

"One hour, actually two hours counting the time difference." Jim sat down and leaned his head back. "I'm exhausted. I have talked to more people this afternoon, than in an entire year, I think."

"Did you not enjoy it?"

"I'm not sure. It felt good to say we completed what we had left to do. There was a feeling of hope about the future. We are witnessing the end of a war. So, that part felt good. But, there was too much about what exactly had I said in the Axanar meeting. Thank goodness, the proceedings are not going to be made public." Jim turned his head sideways towards Spock. "Actually, you don't know what I am talking about."

"I do. I read the transcripts on the ship during my recuperation."

"You did? Umm..." Jim hesitated. "Did you read everything? What I said?"

"Yes."

"Damn," Jim leaned his head back again and closed his eyes.

 

After a while, he popped one eye open, only to find Spock was looking at him.

 

The left corner of his lips twisted upward, “What are you looking at?"

 

"Have you looked at yourself, Jim?" Spock's eyes were dark, like the night skies they were flying through.

"No. I look like a clown don't I?" Jim felt irritated at the idiotic things he had let himself be subjected to.

 

Spock silently reached behind them, and with alarming efficiency located a mirror from their luggage and handed it back to Jim.

"Thanks!"

 

He flipped on the overhead light in the hovercraft, and then he stared. He looked like some kind of model! What had they done to his hair? Wow! Jim had never managed to bring this kind of order to the mop on his head. _Okay, so he didn't look like a clown_. Jim handed the mirror back to Spock and turned the light off.

 

"It's not bad," he smiled sheepishly.

"I believe that is called an understatement," Spock's voice was so low, Jim blushed.

 

"You know, you should have been there. So unfair that we all get to show our faces, whereas the _real_ hero goes unseen and unsung. If you hadn't stopped the assassination, all this would not be happening, Spock. A Vulcan almost sacrificed his life and the humans will never know." Jim’s words tumbled out of him.

 

"Jim, humans have shown me immense kindness. You are needlessly disappointed."

"No Spock. It is not needless. You put your duty before anything else. I admired that about you, but I thought it was easy for you to do so. I thought logic just magically made everything easy for you. But, I was wrong."

 

Spock's turned his head away from him and stared out of the window. Jim knew at that moment, that he had managed to touch Spock without actually touching.

 

"In these past few months, I have faced situations where I felt like I had reached my limits. Every time though, it was logic which saved me. Once I even heard your voice in my head! You have changed me, Spock. I find myself acting more calmly and more rationally. But, it is not easy. It is the most difficult task of all. Easy is to give in to the emotions. You don't know just how strong you are, that you have stuck to your Vulcan principles, in spite of being surrounded by us."

 

"Jim," Spock turned towards him, voice wavering, eyes swimming.

 

"I'm not done yet. I need to tell you this." Jim raised a hand to stop Spock from interrupting. "And throughout all my struggles, I still thought you were at least free of the pain I felt. That you could choose duty above me, without falling apart like I do. Oh but I was wrong! You suffer the same way I do, but you are selfless. You put others ahead of you. The logic comes with a price that you pay quietly. Look at us humans; we had a whole day dedicated to celebrating how awesome we are. We took pictures of ourselves, preened and showed off. And you sit here, asking nothing, and taking me to Idaho, because you know I wanted to go. You make me a better man, Spock. You are the noblest part of me."

 

Spock's Adam apple bobbed as he swallowed, and he again turned away from Jim. Jim knew Spock had understood every word.

 

Jim kicked off his boots and sat cross legged on the comfortable seat. He had wanted to so badly confess all this to Spock. Now, it felt so good.

 

After several moments, Spock turned back and said, " _Ri vath kau eh ri vath rok nam-tor na'etek hi etek kau-tor._ "

"I need to learn Vulcan. What does it mean?"

"There is no other wisdom and no other hope for us but that we grow wise."

 

Jim smiled. "I agree. We are a hopeless case, Mr. Spock."

Spock's right eyebrow rose.

Jim laughed, "And while we are at it, what does las’hark mean?"

 

Spock's lips bent a miniscule amount and his whole face transformed.

"Why are you laughing at me?"

 

"You speak Vulcan in a manner that I find..." Spock was uncharacteristically struggling for words, "...endearing." Spock finally finished.

"Is that so?" Jim blushed. "And what does it mean?"

"It is the name for the Vulcan sun."

"I am your..." This time Jim was left struggling for words. He couldn't meet Spock's eyes anymore, instead the pattern on his sleeve's cuff was suddenly very important to examine.

 

_He was Spock's own sun? That too the Vulcan sun? The one Spock must miss so much, given how hot and dry Vulcan was, and how much cooler and wet San Francisco was._

"Thank you," Jim finally squeaked out, probably looking as red as his uniform, eyes still down.

"Human blood has an appealing hue," Spock murmured from his side.

 

_Oh my God! He needed to distract Spock!_

 

"You know what else, if you were at the press conference today, I would have found out what you look like, when all this is done to you, "Jim waved a hand at his face and hair.

 

Then he made the mistake of looking up, only to find Spock looking at him with such intensity that he felt like he would spontaneously combust right there.

 

"Yeah, or maybe not."

Jim had enough trouble as it is. He probably didn't need Spock looking like a freaking Greek God because that's what would happen.

 

Jim yawned. Spock's face softened.

 

"I dunno why, but I'm always sleepy when I'm with you. And hungry too. Okay I am rambling. And I don't want to ramble! I think, I'm going to take a power nap." Jim smiled.

"Wake me up when we are five minutes away, okay?"

 

"I will, Jim. Please rest."

 

Jim sighed happily. Spock's voice held so much warmth that he felt cocooned.

 

He carefully twisted his body away from Spock, pushed his hands deep into his pockets and rested his head on the cool surface of the hovercraft's window.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> k'hat'n'dlawa      -       half of each other's heart & soul; one who is 'half of my heart and soul in its deepest sense;  
> became unfashionable after Reformation because of its emotional connotation.
> 
>  


	45. Together

 

Spock noted the space Jim put between them.

 

He watched in fascination the vista below as the hover neared their destination. Snowcapped mountains and deep ravines with Salmon River flowing in between. The variability in Earth's weather patterns and topography never ceased to amaze Spock. Moonlight reflected off the white surfaces and made everything come alive in an enchanting way.

 

Jim breathed softly besides him, his face smooth and relaxed in sleep, looking younger than he behaved when awake. Spock was surrounded by beauty, outside and inside the craft.

 

“Jim,” Spock touched his right shoulder gently.

Jim stirred.

“Jim, we are near,” Spock felt guilty waking his sleeping beauty.

 

 

Under the dark sky, they stepped off the hover. It would remain at the property till they were ready to leave.

 

They had both donned their winter gear. But, absolutely nothing had prepared Spock for the cold that hit him.

 

"Hey! It's not that bad! We are lucky," Jim bounced off ahead of him.

"Not that bad implies this is good," Spock spoke through his teeth.

"It is! Look, there's not even snow on the ground." Jim pointed jubilantly, as they climbed the short but steep incline, at the end of which stood a single house.

"There is snow everywhere else, Jim."

 

Jim turned to Spock with a grin on his face, "You're cold, aren't you?" His eyes shone in the moonlight.

"Vulcans can regulate their body temp -"

"Yes I know, but you are cold, Mr. Spock, though you will deny it," Jim’s eyes twinkled.

          

Despite the frigidity, Spock felt warm. The way Jim walked and talked reminded him of days before Axanar.

"This is my uncle's house. Mine now." Jim was speaking as he punched in the code at the entrance. "It's some 350 years old but everything underneath the exterior is actually remodeled."

"It sounds like you were close to your uncle."

 

Jim opened the door and Spock allowed himself a moment of pure relief as the warm air greeted them.

 

"He was like a dad to me, really. He is the one who sponsored me for the Academy. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for him. I spent every summer of my childhood here."

 

Spock walked in behind Jim into the spacious house. Automatic lights turned on, bathing the place in warm glow. Wooden panels covered walls which were made of stone.

 

Jim turned to Spock and said, "It's yours too."

 

Spock raised an eyebrow in question.

 

"Whatever is mine is yours. I'll give you the code and I have to make a will. But, just know, you have a home on Earth and if you are ever planet-side while I am away, this is yours, okay?"

 

"All that is mine is yours, too."

"I know. Captain Pike had to read your will, when we thought you - you," Jim stopped talking and walked few more steps into the house.

 

Spock set down their luggage by the door. Every inch of the walls was covered with various artifacts. Beams, both horizontal and vertical, dominated the space.

 

Jim finally turned around and Spock could see he was trying to hide the pain.

 

"You can hang your coat here, and boots go here." Jim instructed.

 

They both shed their bulky gear. Spock watched Jim walk around, touching here and there. He stood in front of few of holoframes silently. "It's been just a few years, but feels like a lifetime."

 

The gorgeous scenery of Idaho mountainside was visible from the huge windows.

 

Jim went to the windows and gazed outside. "I used to lie down there, looking up at the stars, dreaming of a ship of my own. There, behind that bend, is our neighbor’s home. She used to keep her window open for me. Some nights when I couldn't sleep and my uncle was down at the farm I would go over to her. She would listen to my troubles. She believed in me. One of the few people who did. It's too late now to visit her, but tomorrow I will take you. Though I was born in Iowa, it's these mountains..these trees…these people who raised me," Jim's voice broke.

 

Spock's throat felt constricted. He crossed the room and stood beside his Human. Jim rarely spoke about his childhood and his family. Spock wasn't oblivious to the honor he was being granted now.

 

Jim looked at him and smiled. "I'm sorry, am getting all sentimental. Are you hungry?"

Spock's throat was still hurting so he just nodded.

 

"We will do synthesized meals tonight because I am tired. Tomorrow though, this kitchen is going to see some action!" Jim wiggled his eyebrows at Spock, his good humor coming back.

 

So, that's what they did. The house was furnished with all modern amenities Spock was used to, but it also had a full terran style kitchen and Spock was genuinely curious about the various items in it.

 

Amanda's kitchen was all Vulcan, in a Vulcan house, with Vulcan spices.

 

They both selected sandwiches. Vulcan cuisine was not in the memory banks, though Jim promised to tweak the synthesizer the next day.

 

Jim took him on a tour while they ate. Next to the kitchen was a room, closed off from rest of the house - there were windows on all three sides instead of opaque walls. Jim called it a "sun room". The room projected out over the deep valley and the scenery took Spock's breath away.

 

"Isn't it amazing?" Jim asked between bites.

"I have to agree."

"It's my favorite room. I used to curl up in one of these chairs and get lost in a book."

 

They picked their luggage and Jim took him upstairs, climbing a wooden, spiral staircase.

 

"This is my room," Jim tossed his bag on the single bed.

Then, he led Spock to the other end of the house, "And this will be yours. We both have to share the bathroom in the middle here."

"Thank you, Jim."

"Seriously? You going to go all formal again?" Jim challenged him with his expression.

 

 

Spock opened his mouth to explain, but Jim was right. He was using words which were entirely underwhelming.

But Spock was at a loss. How could he convey what he was feeling? He was at the home of the man he loved, surrounded by memories which seemed to whisper tales, and Jim was not holding back anything. He stood radiant and transparent. There were probably no words to describe Spock's internal state right now. If only he could _show._

 

"Spock?" Jim was waiting.

"I find my new home pleasant," Spock replied. And it earned him a golden smile that encompassed all of existence.

 

"Do you want to take a shower?"

"No, Jim. I took one while in my apartment."

"Right! I'm going to take one then, and hit the sack. Tomorrow morning, I'll take you around. So much to show you, Spock!"

 

They were standing by Spock's room, facing each other, inches apart. Jim hesitated and swiftly took a step back, "Good night Spock, see you tomorrow morning."

"Good night, Jim."

 

Jim turned and walked away. Spock stepped inside the room, which was to be his now, and closed the door. He changed into night attire.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Spock was lying on the comfortable bed, listening to the sounds of the night. Some were familiar, some were new to him. The moonlight streaming through the window fascinated him. Vulcan had no moon, and he felt sorry for his people.

The simple phenomenon of light being reflected off Earth's satellite ought not to affect him – yet it did make him long for the man sleeping across the corridor.

Between the high pitched songs of the life outside his window, his ears picked up the creaking sounds, as Jim turned and tossed in his bed. Each of those movements, shot through Spock like an electric jolt.

 

Spock folded his hands on his stomach.

 

It was going to be a long night.

 

 

He could meditate, but he found he did not want to. He wanted to savor this pain. He had bid farewell to all this, and now he allowed himself to roll in this agony.

 

Jim's heartbeat.

Jim's eyes.

Jim's hands.

 

He had not known what starvation was, till now. Starved for touch. Jim's touch.

 

Spock sighed and closed his eyes.

 

_Jim._

His entire body, soul and mind seemed to cry for Jim. May be he should attempt to go for a walk outside. But, he would end up with frost bite he feared.

 

Spock's ears twitched when the sounds from Jim's bedroom changed suddenly. And then, his heart forgot how to beat, when he heard the sounds of footfall approaching his door. They came right up to the other side of his door.

And stopped.

 

Spock heart restarted with a bang and went into overdrive. After several moments, the footsteps turned away and he heard Jim go down the stairs. He heard a door open and close softly. 

 

Spock lay immobile, staring into the beam of moonlight, for a long, long time.

The house was silent. Except for his wildly beating heart.

 

He slowly sat up on the bed. This was the moment.

He had to let go.

 

He took a deep breath and wrapping himself in his thick robe, over his thermals, Spock went downstairs.

 

A song was playing somewhere, very softly. The notes were the most bitter-sweet sound Spock had heard.

 

He located the source as the sunroom. Spock opened the door, stepped in, and closed the door behind him quietly.

 

Jim sat in the one of the oversized chair, legs folded into his chest, his arms wrapped around his knees, looking in the opposite direction from Spock. He seemed to be lost in his thoughts, or in the song, not having heard Spock's approach.

 

The air was slightly colder here than the rest of the house, probably due to the huge windows.

 

Jim was clad only in a shirt and pajama, his hair disordered.

 

Something lodged in Spock's throat, as he watched the man, whose existence dictated Spock's own; towards whom every road seem to lead, no matter which direction Spock walked towards.

 

The song finished and then the same one started again.

Spock reminded himself to let go of his inhibitions. He owed this much to himself and to the man, who had come back for him, who had saved his life on a distant planet. Who had given Spock a new life, much before Axanar - by simply smiling at Spock that first time they had met. Jim's smile was Spock's sunlight.

 

The song seemed to be speaking to Spock. He listened to the lyrics - _This bond between us can't be broken._

 

Jim sighed softly and shifted still unaware of his presence.

 

 Spock had finally found perfection and he wasn't strong enough to turn away. He had never been strong enough, but he had deluded himself into thinking so.

 

_It will be alright_

_Just take my hand_

_And hold it tight -_ the song's cascading notes fell and rose.

Spock crossed the small distance from the door to the chair. Jim turned his head towards him, surprise registering on his expression.

 

"Spock?" Jim whispered.

"You cannot sleep." Spock replied.

"Ignore me," Jim smiled but it didn’t reach the hazel eyes. Jim turned his head back towards the mountains in the distance.

 

How could Spock explain that ignoring Jim had never been possible? He stood, with his head hung low, unable to leave Jim.

Jim turned back towards him and met his eyes. Spock's heart ached at the beauty in front of him.

"What do you want Spock?" Jim's voice was gentle and pained.

 

 _What did he want?_ Spock did not know what he wanted, only that he wanted.

 

He went down on both of his knees, on the plush carpet, kneeling in front of the chair. "Jim."

 

Jim stared at him.

 

_When destiny calls you,_

_You must be strong,_

_I may not be with you_

_But you got to hold on..._ The lyrics went straight to Spock’s heart.

Jim sat frozen.

And Spock was dying.

 

He sat there in front of the man, baring his soul, feeling naked. Why wouldn't Jim relieve him of his misery?

With trembling hands, he reached out and took the warm human hands into his own. He unclasped the fingers from the human knees and barely able to speak, begged, "Touch me."

 

"Spock?" Jim's voice was hoarse.

"Please," Spock gazed up.

 

In desperation, he pulled Jim's right palm to his own face. He held Jim's thumb to his own lips, like Jim had done, on that night in the tent.

 

Jim's breath hitched. In slow motion, Jim unfolded his legs and let them hang on either side of Spock. Jim's thighs touched him on the shoulders. Spock's body thrummed with a charge passing through the touch.

 

The thumb brushed Spock's lower lip, gently at first and then roughly, twisting the skin under the finger. Spock's eyes closed on their own accord. Tremors ran through his body and he felt limp.

 

Then, the thumb trailed his upper lip and Spock's entire body leaned into that touch. Something warm started spreading inside him, from his very core. He would die a thousand deaths for this touch.

Jim's thumb left his parted lips, and trailed a path of fire across his cheeks, over his cheekbones, then down to the tip of his earlobe, and stopped.

 

Spock opened his eyes, trying to remember where he was. But, all he could seem to notice was that Jim had leaned in towards him. And then, impossibly, the soft human lips, turned upwards slightly. Jim looked at him with a question dancing on the smiling lips, and Spock had no clue what it was. He looked back in panic.

 

Jim's tilted his head to a side, looking at him, with a mix of amusement and desire. Then, warm human fingers touched his right wrist, which had fallen over Jim's thigh.

 

Jim raised Spock's wrist, took his thumb and held it next to the human lips, and Spock suddenly understood.

 

Heart racing in his side, Spock mimicked the action which Jim had done to him seconds ago. The song played on in the background, as he brushed his fingers across Jim's lips.

 

Jim's lips opened slightly under Spock's roaming fingers and Jim moaned. The sound sent Spock to a whole new plane of existence.

 

Then, looking straight into Spock's eyes, Jim opened his lips a little more, and the tip of Spock's index finger fell into the warm, wet mouth. Spock made a sound he didn't know he was capable of making.

 

A slow smile spread on Jim's face. The human eyes blazed alive after so many months.

 

Spock dropped his gaze, bowed his head down, his face warm, blood roaring in his ears. And then Jim gently bit down on his finger.

Spock growled and lost all touch with reality.

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jim's heart was beating so hard, that it almost hurt. In his wildest dreams, he had not imagined that Spock would react to him like this.

 

"Oh my God! Come here," Jim let go of Spock's wrist, put both hands on Spock's collar and pulled him up towards himself, till their foreheads were touching.

 

"Spock, I'm afraid I am reaching the point, where I will go all human on you." He was breathing hard.

Spock didn't reply. Instead Spock turned his lips towards Jim's ears and flicked his tongue out.

 

Jim bit his lip to stifle another moan, in vain.

 

But, Jim had not forgotten, their last time, their first time. He had absolutely no intention of ruining this - whatever Spock was doing - with a kiss.

The pain of Spock leaving had cured him forever of such actions. He was never going to kiss again or do anything to Spock, and jeopardize their relationship. It seemed as long as Jim kept his own rash actions in check, Spock was fine with physical contact.

 

So, Jim let go of Spock's collar and pulled back completely. At the broken contact, a whimper escaped the Vulcan lips; the dark eyes opened slowly and looked at Jim with unbridled hunger.

 

Jim burst into a smile at the sight. He crossed his hands across his chest, barricading himself. Looking into Spock's eyes, he whispered, "What is that scientific mind of yours thinking now, Mr. Spock?"

 

No words came back. Instead, Spock made a low rumbling noise, pulled Jim down to himself, and took Jim’s lips completely into his own, in the most hot and clumsy kiss, Jim had ever experienced.

 

Jim froze, shocked. May be he was dreaming. Or he had finally gone insane. But then he felt Spock pulling him harder, and he grinned into Spock's mouth.

 

"Let me show you," he said, and pulled a little away to make sure the he had his Vulcan's attention. Spock's right hand was on his thigh and he was grasping Jim's shirt with the left one. Jim cupped Spock's face in both hands. Then, he leaned down all the way, and gently touched Spock's lips with his own.

 

Spock went rigid for an instant, then seemed to understand and followed along enthusiastically. Jim moved his lips across Spock's tenderly, and instinctively his thighs closed in on Spock's body, wanting to crush him between his legs.

 

He kissed gently and then pulled back again.

Spock made a small moaning sound at the kiss being interrupted, and immediately pulled Jim back towards him. Jim laughed quietly. This time, Jim tried to deepen the kiss and pushed against Spock's lips.

 

Jim ran his tongue across Spock's lower lip, and tried to teach his Vulcan.  Spock responded by putting his hands around Jim's neck, and pulling on Jim's hair roughly. Jim forgot all about teaching Spock and melted into the kiss, sucking and nibbling. His ankles crossed behind the lean torso, pushing Spock into him, and they both groaned together.

 

When he felt himself falling off the chair, being pulled down by strong hands, which had latched into his hair with unrelenting grip, Jim came back to his senses.

 

"Spock, stop!" Jim panted, even as he tumbled down from the chair, crashing into Spock on the carpeted floor.

 

Spock looked beyond comprehension, holding onto Jim like a drowning man. Jim tried to pull himself away, but Spock chased Jim's lips with a singular focus.

 

"Wow! You've completely lost it, haven't you?" Jim was slowly starting to feel pretty darn proud. "And I did this to you, Spock? Finally? I don't think I will ever get over this." He propped himself up on his elbows, lying on top of his Vulcan, and whispered, "Hey...come back."

 

The first sign of understanding seemed to creep in the dark eyes. For next several moments, as Jim watched, the glazed eyes slowly refocused, the pupils shrank back, the breathing slowed down.

At last, Spock spoke in a husky voice, "I apologize".

 

Jim laughed out loud, at the lyrics, at Spock's expression, at his unusually disheveled appearance. He laughed as a supernova of happiness burst inside him, waves of joy coming from his soul.

 

"I don't think you can apologize your way out of _that!”_ Jim got up to his feet and then held out his hand for Spock.

 

A green flush staining his cheeks, Spock took his hand, and stood up.

 

"We are going inside. And we are going to sleep, you in your room, me in mine, understood? “Jim beamed.

"Yes, Jim."

"And tomorrow we will talk!”

“Yes, Jim.”

“No stealth attacks," Jim couldn't stop grinning.

"Yes, Jim."

 

Holding hands, Jim led and Spock followed him inside the house.

 

In the kitchen, Jim stood on his toes and reached up. He kissed the top of Spock's bangs and said, "I have never been so happy before."

They climbed up the stairs together, and at the top, Spock looked at him with smiling eyes. Then, hesitatingly, Spock raised his right hand, and tucked back a lock of hair that had fallen on Jim's forehead.

"Goodnight, Jim."

 

 

Jim couldn't help himself. He pulled Spock in for another long, deep kiss till they both had to come up for air.

 

"Goodnight, Spock."

That night, Jim fell asleep with the biggest smile in all of alpha quadrant.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Jim had on loop - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=git6DCXSqjE


	46. Idaho

When Jim awoke the next morning, and looked out from his bedroom window, the sunlight was glinting off the fallen snow on the needles of the softwoods on the slopes. Patches of blue, clear skies peeked through, from between the trees.

Jim smiled and swung his legs off the bed. It was a beautiful day and a beautiful life.

He brushed his teeth, washed his face and then went downstairs, expecting Spock to be up before him. There was no one downstairs though. He ran back up the stairs and knocked on Spock’s room.

 

“Spock? May I come in?”

“Yes, Jim.”

Jim entered the room to find Spock folding his meditation mat. Their eyes met and Jim’s good mood instantly evaporated. Spock had that haunted look, the kind he had on the ship.

Spock carefully finished folding the mat and then turned to Jim, standing in the middle of the room, hands folded behind his back.

Jim’s eyes swept across the room. Spock’s luggage was still packed. He was dressed in a black turtleneck sweater and dark jeans. Jim distinctly remembered Spock had worn a robe last night. How could he forget that?

Jim crossed his arms and leaned back on the closed door. Neither of them spoke. Jim was terrified of speaking the wrong words. He could conjure up speeches about peace and unity but when it came to Spock, all of Jim’s bravado left him.

But, Spock seemed to have turned into a statue. The silence was going to kill them, unless Jim found a way through it.

“Spock, do you regret it?”

“No Jim, I treasure it.”

 

Yet Spock’s eyes were full of ghosts.

“I don’t understand,” Jim spoke haltingly. “If you say that - I mean something is clearly wrong, right?”

Spock turned away, and walked to the window, overlooking the valley.

_He won’t even show his face to me?_

“Please, talk to me. I can’t read minds like you, Spock.”

 

But Spock had clamped up. He stood with his back so straight, it hurt Jim to watch him.

“Is this about yesterday night?”

“Yes, Jim.”

“Well, I don’t know about you but ...it was the best moment of my life. And I thought you wanted it too? But, okay, listen, if it wasn’t, that’s okay. I can live without touching you again but I cannot live without you. Please.”

“I cannot.”  

Jim’s stomach dropped. _Spock could not live with him?_  “Cannot what?”

“I cannot live without touching you, Jim”.

Jim let this contradictory information percolate his confused mind.

 

“So, I _can_ touch you?”

“You must.”

Jim was flabbergasted. This was absolutely not how he had envisioned this conversation would go. He had expected Spock to be all logical and blunt. May be use biological terms. But, he had never dreamed that Vulcans apparently had issues discussing openly.

Spock was clearly struggling.

“Umm...Can I touch you like yesterday?”

Spock nodded, his eyes fixed on something outside the window.

Jim let out a breath he had been holding. Whatever was going on, this was not a break-up. Jim slowly walked across the room and stood behind Spock.

“What about...where can I touch you?”

“Jim.” Spock’s eyes closed and his head dropped.

 

The air between them hummed. Jim’s heart rate had accelerated, but he had to persist. So, he kept talking.

“Okay, let me rephrase that, can I touch you everywhere?”

Outside, the snow melted in the bright sunshine. Jim watched a water droplet form on the tip of a branch by the window, and then drip.

 

“No.” Spock finally answered.

“I see.” Jim was not seeing much really. “Okay....and May I ask why?”

“Do not ask this of me, Jim.” Spock’s voice was pained and low.

Jim looked at Spock’s profile, illuminated in the morning sunlight. Dark lashes framed deep set eyes. Spock’s jaw was taut, the tension written clear over his face. Jim had to break through this wall behind which Spock was hiding.

 

“Is this because of how I behaved that night, in my room when I -”  Jim began.

“No.” Spock finally turned to face him. “No, Jim, your behavior has never been at fault.”  

Jim tried to read the deep brown eyes. _What the hell was going on?_

 

“But Spock, yesterday night it seemed like...well, I mean I was the one who stopped us...should I have not done that?”

Spock took a deep breath and turned to look outside again, “Jim, you saved me. My controls fail me when you touch me.”

Those words made Jim feel heady. The small gap between them was torturing him.

“And yet you don't want us to....go beyond last night?”

“It is not a question of want. It is - it is a necessity.”

“Is it a Vulcan thing?”

“Yes.” Spock took a step away from Jim, still avoiding eye contact. Then, he walked away - to the other side of the room, hands clasped tightly behind him.

”Jim, I am bound by Vulcan rules but you do not have to abide by them. You are free. It would be prudent of you to reconsider our friendship. It is the logical approach.”

If Jim wasn’t so confused and upset, he would have smacked Spock in the head for spouting nonsense. He tried to remember what Spock had shared about Vulcans in the tent, during the Mendocino trip. Something about bonded pairs. And about all bondings being permanent.

Jim rubbed his palms together; as he tried to figure out how to solve this impasse they had apparently reached. If he was reading his Spock right, he had a hunch. Even if Spock hadn’t been a Vulcan, Jim would have pegged him as the kind of guy, who committed to relationships. Spock had already proven through his actions that he loved Jim. Jim didn’t need any promises, or any declarations, in the usual manner humans did. 

So on one hand Spock had unequivocally let him know that he wanted Jim. On the other hand, Spock seemed to think Jim was "free" and need not "abide by Vulcan rules." May be Spock needed to hear that in spite of, not abiding by any rules, Vulcan or Human, Jim was still willing to be with him. Jim squared his shoulders.

“Do you remember, you once asked me about my marriage plans?” he asked.

Spock stiffened.  “Yes.”

“Well, I don't think I will ever marry.”

Spock turned around and faced Jim. “What has caused you to come to this conclusion? You are still very young, Jim.”

“Right, and you are a grandpa at 22. Anyways, it is Bones. I saw what it did to him. His marriage is over. You were gone so you didn’t see how broken he was. It has destroyed him. He loved her Spock, married her, had a family. And it all fell apart. It made me realize things about myself.”

Jim’s gamble at sharing this was working. Spock’s posture relaxed a tiny bit.

“Do you wish no one's company then?”

Jim looked at him, fondly, and smiled. _How could he ask such a question? How could he not know after everything they had been through?_

Spock’s eyes were slowly opening up which meant he was saying the correct words. Jim mustered up the courage and walked towards his friend. He put his hands on each of Spock’s arms and held his favorite thing in the world.

“All I wish for is a tall ship and a star to steer her by.” Spock’s right eyebrow climbed up and Jim’s face split into a smile. “And you by my side.”

Something seemed to snap inside Spock and it released whatever was causing him to be tormented.

“What do _you_ wish for, Spock?”

Spock hesitated. “During the conversation in the tent, you had expressed interest in exploring.”

 “Yes?”

 “I wish to explore with you,” Spock spoke shyly.

Jim moved his hands up Spock’s arms and squeezed his shoulders - holding the lean body at an arm’s distance.

“Then, why are you leaving me, sweetheart?”

To Jim’s surprise, Spock took a step forward and melted into Jim’s arms, burying his face into Jim’s neck. Jim closed his arms around Spock’s back and held him tight. Only then did he realize that Spock was trembling.

They stood like that - Jim feeling like his heart would burst of the protectiveness he felt. After a few seconds, Jim reached for Spock’s right hand hanging limp by his side, with his own left one, and lifted it. He positioned Spock’s hand to his own waist, then did the same with the other hand. Spock didn’t move but his hands slowly encircled Jim and pulled him in with that Vulcan strength.

“Are you leaving me?” Jim asked.

A head shake from his shoulder told him the answer was ‘No’.

Jim turned his head and kissed Spock’s soft hair. “Is this what's been haunting you? Your breakdown on the ship?”

Spock nodded from the crook of his neck.

“What part of ‘I’ll walk through hell with you’, didn’t you understand?” Jim spoke gently and kissed Spock’s hair again.

Spock’s response was to burrow further into Jim, tighten his Vulcan grip till Jim felt like his bones were about to be crushed. Jim laughed quietly, both out of joy and sadness. Unspoken demons, he knew, still lived within his love. But, he wouldn’t let them win.

 

He laughed because that’s what Jim did. He had learned to laugh in the face of sadness. Without Spock in his life, he had forgotten that he could do this. But, now it was clear that Spock’s pain wasn’t related to Jim’s failings. So, Jim could laugh. Whatever life threw at him, he could handle.

Jim cradled Spock, rubbing a hand over Spock’s back, tracing reassuring circles. He ran his fingers through the dark, glossy hair, murmuring words of comfort. Slowly, the tremors calmed down and finally disappeared from Spock’s body.

“Enough hiding. C’mon, show me your face.”

Spock straightened up, pulled the edges of his sweater down and stood tall. Jim’s heart soared on seeing the expression on his Vulcan’s face. The ghosts were gone. It was then that Jim remembered Spock was a touch telepath. All the words in the universe couldn’t convey what Jim was trying to say, but their physical connection must have finally convinced Spock what was in Jim’s heart.

“Are we good?”

“Yes, Jim.”

 Jim smiled teasingly at Spock. “Well, Mr. Spock, let’s see how good a student you are. Show me what you learned yesterday.”

Spock’s eyes glowed and pink lips bent slightly upward in the faintest hint of a smile. Wrapped in each other’s arms, Spock kissed him breathless. When they broke apart, a single eyebrow was raised in inquiry.

“Not bad. You have much to learn, but I would say it’s passable.” Jim shrugged his shoulders and spoke nonchalantly - the effect was lessened somewhat due to the fact that he was breathing like a fish out of water.

The other eyebrow joined the first one and Spock broke the hug. Strong hands held him securely at his waist and then lifted him up.

_Oh!_

Jim wrapped his legs around Spock’s torso and his hands around Spock’s neck. Spock’s lips found him again. Spock carried him to the bed, kissing all the way and they fell down together. Jim was pinned under Spock, his wrists immovable under steel fingers. Spock lifted his chest off Jim, which was a good move, because damn, he was heavy!  Soft lips moved across Jim’s face, kissing every part - his cheeks, his eyelids, his forehead. Jim felt limp.

Slender fingers combed through Jim’s hair, and grasped a handful to bend his head back, exposing his neck. Lips brushed against the side of Jim’s neck, tracing a path along his jaw and over his chin. Spock stopped just short of his lips. Jim let out a small needy whimper.

“Re-evaluate.”

“Better,” Jim gasped.

Spock climbed out of the bed with a tiny smirk on his lips, looking immaculate, not a hair out of place.

_How was this possible?_

Jim was feeling dizzy. Stars were circling in his head. He put an arm across his forehead and tried to get himself under control.

“I need a shower.”

“Yes, it would seem so.”  Spock cocked his head to one side. “Do you require assistance?”

“Are you trying to kill me?”

Spock looked confused. “I was merely offering to carry you, since you seem incapacitated. ”

Jim sat up. “I can walk just fine.” Then, he stormed out of the bedroom, shooting daggers at Spock.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Spock used the time to unpack while Jim showered. His backup plan, had Jim rejected him, was no longer needed. He cancelled the hovercraft he had booked, which would have taken him back and also cancelled his seat at the private ship to Vulcan.

He felt lighter as if gravity itself had changed and though it violated every law of physics, it was still as real as anything he had ever experienced. He could still feel the warmth of Jim on his skin. Jim’s words, his hug, the way his hair smelled, every contour which defined his Human - Spock’s thoughts and senses were saturated with everything Jim.

A door had been unlocked somewhere deep within him. Whatever had escaped seemed to lift Spock’s _katra_ out of his body, made it fly away in senseless abandon, over the Idaho Mountains.

Spock was relieved that his control over the bond was withstanding the onslaught of desires Jim had unleashed in him. Their mutual understanding and Jim’s selfless commitment had freed him of the burden he was carrying. He had matured a lot in the past few months. Somewhere along the periphery of his mind, shame lingered on, trying to make its way in. But Spock was so full of contentment and peace that it had been unsuccessful so far.

Once, they returned to their professional lives, he would reign himself in. But for these few precious days, he would allow himself to live -  to give all he had - because the memories being created of these moments, would be all that he would be left with.

“Your turn!” Jim called out before disappearing downstairs. “Oh, and put on your uniform!”

 _Strange request,_ Spock thought to himself.

Shower done, dressed in his uniform, his cap in his hands, Spock descended the steps.

Jim was setting the small rectangular table which seated four, dressed in red uniform as well.

 

“Scrambled eggs and toast for me.” Jim looked up and declared. “I managed to download Vulcan menu into the synthesizer’s memory banks. We must go grocery shopping later.”

“Thank you, Jim.” Spock went over the synthesizer and obtained a bowl of soup and Vulcan bread.

Jim had already arranged two place mats, glasses of water, as well as cutlery, on the opposite sides of the table.

“I am starving.” Jim started eating while Spock moved the place mat from its original position to the one next to Jim, and sat down, their knees brushing.

Jim’s fork stopped midway to his mouth.

“What’s wrong with that seat?”

Spock spread his napkin and replied calmly, ”The distance was not optimal.”

 

“Uh-uh.”

They ate in silence, both hungry. It was late morning and they had already spent considerable emotional and physical energy since their last meal.

When they were done, Jim showed him the automatic washer, and asked, “How’s your leg?”

“It is no different than my original leg,” Spock replied.

“Spock!” Jim elbowed him in the side.

“It is completed healed.”

Jim put on his cap and boots. “Let’s go for a walk, then. Tomorrow morning we will go for a run.”

Spock had known the odds of this happening were high, but it still didn’t help him feel any better. A “walk” in such cold conditions was not his first preference. But he couldn’t let Jim have the satisfaction of him backing out, of course.

Before Spock could reach for his heavy coat though, Jim plucked it from the coat-tree and held it out for him. “You don’t look too happy for someone who can regulate their body temperature.”

Yes, Spock was right. Jim was moving in for the kill. No doubt a revenge for what Spock had managed to achieve upstairs.

So he refused to step into Jim’s trap, but he let himself be dressed. Jim buttoned Spock’s coat, one by one, taking his time. His Human held up a pair of gloves silently. Warm fingers brushed against his own as the gloves slid in place, one after another. Spock fought with the impulse to initiate a _ozh'esta._ But he couldn’t stop his heart rate from speeding up.

 

The air suddenly seemed charged around them. Spock had not known this simple act of Jim helping him with his attire would produce such effect.

A  soft headgear was placed on his head, the sides pulled low till Spock’s ears were completely covered. Then, his uniform cap was placed on top.

Lastly, Jim took a long scarf and started wrapping it around Spock’s neck. Spock’s fingers were still tingling from Jim’s touch.

Jim looked at him from beneath long eyelashes, still wrapping the scarf, now over Spock’s mouth and nose.

“Jim.” Spock couldn’t stand it any longer. What he had denied Jim upstairs, had now become a _need._

“Say it.”

“Touch me.”

Unlike the previous times Jim wasn’t gentle. Spock found himself pushed and slammed against the wall. Spock let himself be plundered and it was all he could do from keeping his legs buckling under him.

Sometime after - Spock wasn’t sure precisely how much because time seemed to have stopped - Jim peeled himself off him. He shrugged on a light jacket over his uniform, and nothing else, much to Spock’s chagrin.

Jim’s cheeks were flushed and he was looking at Spock with the unmistakable grin of a victor. Spock took quiet pleasure at the sight of Jim’s swollen lips.

When they stepped out into the cold Terran air, Spock had to admit that Jim’s efforts to wrap him in innumerable layers had paid off. He felt quite comfortable. He followed Jim down the steep rocky path.

“23.” Spock’s voice came out muffled from under the scarf.

“Huh?”

“I am 23 years old.”

“You were 22 last time I checked?”

“Correct.”

“Wait! When is your birthday?”

“January 6th.”

“Just two weeks ago? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You did not ask, Jim.”

Jim stopped walking and stared at him. Spock was 98.2% certain he was about to get into trouble.  He had simply intended to correct the factual mistake Jim had made earlier.

“I was not in a state of consciousness to inform you,” he hastily added.

“Oh right. You were in a coma.” Jim appeared mollified and started walking again. “We have to celebrate!”

This was what Spock should have seen coming. But, he had failed. Amanda had participated in this Terran ritual till he was old enough to protest. Spock calculated the odds of Jim listening to his protests being abominably low. They walked for seven minutes, along the slope and under the trees. Jim was whistling and Spock couldn’t stop looking at him.

They reached another house, climbed up the small flight of stairs and Jim pressed the small button to indicate their arrival. Spock watched with curiosity as Jim took off his jacket and handed it to Spock. Jim took a deep breath, adjusted his cap, puffed out his chest and stood tall. The door opened a fraction and a pair of light eyes peered at Jim. Then, the door was opened wider and Spock saw an old lady standing in front of them, looking up at Jim in confusion. She was short and frail, wrinkles lined her skin and her eyes were as bright as the day outside.

“John! There is some kind of officer here! “ She turned back and shouted at someone inside the house. Spock looked at Jim, and was startled to see the play of emotions on his human’s face.

“What is the problem, officer? Did my Billy jump the fence again?” She asked Jim.

Jim was silent for a moment. Then, he spoke in a choked voice, “It’s me.”

The lady stepped closer to Jim and studied his face. Her hands flew to her mouth and she gasped, “Jimmy!” Her eyes were wide and her expression a mix of pure joy, surprise and pain. “Oh! Jimmy!”

She rushed forward and wrapped her arms around Jim, and Jim did the same. Spock stood quietly witnessing the reunion.

She looked up at Jim and smiled, “I have missed you so much. I didn’t know what happened to you since that summer.  The house has been sitting vacant.” She wiped a tear with the back of her hand. Then, she cupped Jim’s face in both of her palms. “You are an officer, Jimmy? You made it?”

“Not an officer yet, am a Cadet but yes, I made it. Because you believed in me, ” Jim’s eyelashes were wet and his voice was thick with emotion.

An older gentleman appeared behind the lady and the lady broke the news to her husband, who had a similar reaction of joy and pride once he realized who was standing at their doorstep.

“Look at how tall you are!” She laughed, wiping away more tears. “My boy has become a man, John.” Then, her gaze fell towards Spock for the first time.  “Oh! Who is that - is there anyone inside?”

Jim laughed throatily. “Yes, I promise you there is someone inside all that. He is my friend, Spock. He, umm, isn’t used to the cold.”  

“You don’t say!” She was smiling at Spock now. Spock swallowed his pride and followed everyone indoors.

Once Spock had been revealed, after shedding all his layers, there was much interest in his ears and eyes. “What a handsome young man, and an officer too!” she declared after her inspection.

“He is a Vulcan,” Jim smiled.

They were seated in a comfortable room, the insides similar to Jim’s uncle’s cabin. Jim chatted, while Spock sat erect and observed the surroundings around him. The older gentleman gazed at all of them, smiling now and then as Jim and his lady friend broke into laughter over old memories. 

After a few minutes, she stood up and chided Jim, “You should have told me you were coming! But, guess what I am baking?”

“Chocolate chip muffins?” Jim’s face lit up like a little boy.

“Yes!” She ambled towards her kitchen, which like Jim’s house, was open and visible from the room they were seated at. Jim got up and followed her and they both kept up an incessant stream of words, as a tray was taken out from the oven.

Jim was given a plate on which he piled up a mountain of muffins. Before he was back to the sofa on which Spock was sitting, his mouth was full of the Terran delicacy. Jim’s lady friend offered Spock a plate with a single muffin.

“I do not require sustenance at this time,” Spock politely declined.

A sputtering sound came from the direction of Jim, but Spock didn’t look. The old lady had an expression of shock on her face.

“I don’t know what they feed you on Vulcan, honey, but your bony ass sure needs sustenance!”

Spock didn’t know how to respond to that. She was standing with the plate firmly thrust out towards him. Jim’s chortled laughter was not helping matters.

Spock tried again. “Vulcan metabolism is higher than humans." From his peripheral vision, Spock noted that Jim had now trained all his concentration on Spock. "I apologize but my metabolism cannot handle frequent inputs."

“Well, ya have to eat something. I am not letting you go, otherwise. What else can your metabolism handle?”

Spock looked at Jim, silently pleading to rescue him.

“He is kinda sensitive, Lois. We did actually just eat before coming to see you,” Jim smiled brilliantly at her.

She didn’t look convinced. “What about tea?”

Spock breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes, I am amenable to that.”

She glanced at Jim and winked, “I like him.”

“Me too,” Jim replied sheepishly.

 So, a cup of Terran tea was brewed for him, and to Spock’s surprise, it was a mild and pleasant beverage. The warmth felt nourishing in the cold environment. Spock sipped, feeling oddly at home, listening to Jim’s voice as the afternoon rolled along.

When they left, he had the feeling that he was now a part of something very important to Jim.

 

* * *

 

"Spock?" Jim turned around to see his Vulcan had not moved. They were standing inside his uncle’s barn.

"Jim, this equestrian- "

Jim let out a laugh. "You are scared!"

"Vulcans do not experience-"

"You know what? I have concluded that Vulcans go into full scientific mode, when they are petrified."

Jim walked back to where Spock was standing and wrapped an arm around the slender waist.

"C'mon! You survived sixteen days severely wounded, without food and water, in the most inhospitable environment possible. This can't be worse than that, right?" Jim coaxed.

Spock refused to budge. So, Jim put both his hand on Spock's shoulder blades, and pushed from behind. "Go on, pet her. She is Sheila." Jim nudged.

Spock took a deep breath and slowly approached the animal. Then he reached out with one pointed index finger, placed it gingerly on the Sheila’s forehead and held his breath. Jim's mare stomped her feet once and then relaxed. At the same moment, lumps of green, dried goop splattered on the ground from her backside.

"Oh my God! Spock! Lois told me she was constipated! You are a poop messiah!" Jim shouted with joy.

Spock glared at Jim and then turned around. Jim doubled down with laughter, which earned him a second glare, this one positively murderous. Spock began walking towards their cabin, with long strides. Tears running down his eyes, Jim picked himself up and hurriedly followed his angry young Vulcan. They took off their snow crusted muddy boots, and hung their gear. Spock pointedly avoided Jim.

"Hey!" Jim went and wrapped his arms around Spock from behind. No response. There was a definite pout, if trained eyes looked for it.

"I am sorry, okay? I mean, not really, but c'mon, don't be mad at me. I really mean it. You cured her!" Jim planted a kiss on a high cheekbone.

Under his arms, he felt Spock relax. Jim pulled Spock and settled into the couch in the living room. Spock still had a frown on his face. Jim reached out and smoothed the little wrinkle from his forehead.

"You are adorable when you are mad, you know that?" Jim looked at his Vulcan fondly.

Spock sighed and replied, "I am not 'mad'. However, Sheila is suffering from severe toothache."

"How the heck -" Jim was shocked.

"She told me." Spock turned towards Jim with a troubled expression.

Jim stared at Spock for several moments.

"You can talk to animals?" He finally asked incredulously.

Spock looked down and spoke, almost shyly, "I seem to have the capacity to communicate with other creatures. I became aware of it, when as an youngster I could clearly read my pet sehlat’sthoughts and emotions. Since then, I have found out that this is not a common occurrence in all Vulcans. My hybrid biology may be to blame."

“Hybrid biology - what does that mean?”

“My mother is a human and I am the only Vulcan child with such parentage to survive beyond toddler hood.”

“Wait! What? You mother is a human?” Jim asked. “You mean like me?”

“There is only one species called Humans in the galaxy, Jim.”

Jim sat thunderstruck, eyes as large as saucers. “You are half human and half Vulcan?”

“Yes.”

“I can’t believe this! We have known each other for I don’t know... but it feels like ages and we almost died for each other. We are practically joined at the hip and you didn’t think of telling me all this time that your MOTHER IS A FREAKING HUMAN!!!”

Spock looked terrified at Jim’s outburst.

“You did not ask, Jim.”

“SPOCK! I swear -” Jim sprang up from the sofa, unable to sit still.  He threw his hands up in the air. “I can’t even - I don’t know what to do with you.”

Brown eyes were looking at him, blinking slowly, warily.

“Don’t look at me with those puppy eyes. I am mad at you!” Jim threatened.

Spock rose from the sofa and approached Jim with trepidation. Then, he raised his arms and said, “I am sorry, Jim. My intention was never to upset you. May I hug you?”

“You are unbelievable,” Jim muttered but he had already melted into a puddle. “Yes, hug me, you idiot.”

The hug turned into a long kiss and they ended up, spending the rest of the afternoon, lounging on the sofa, with Jim’s head on Spock’s thighs. Spock told him stories about his human mother, Amanda, his pet sehlatand the Vulcan city of ShiKahr, while long fingers combed through Jim's hair.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. To my friend, you know who you are, this chapter is dedicated to you. Thank you for believing in the Jims of this world and accepting their Spocks.
> 
>  
> 
> 2\. ozh'esta - Vulcan finger embrace.
> 
> 3\. Copy-pasting a comment because it may be of interest to others.  
> These are my head canon/notes:- 
> 
> * Spock doesn't know if he will even undergo pon farr, at this point in life. He is still figuring out while trying to grapple with falling in love with jim.
> 
> He says in amok time he was hoping he would be spared of it.
> 
> * He can't have sex because 1. Outright Infidelity 2. Vulcans need to mind meld to achieve climax. If he has sex, he will cement the bond during the climax. Essentially vulcan marrying Jim. 3. He needs a backup plan for Ponn farr. He can't break the bond with t'pring since it's life and death for them.
> 
> *If he could he would walk away from Jim. And not even kiss or touch him. But he can't. Both because he is in love, as well as what it will do to Jim. And that's why in Naked times, his confession is "he feels shame when he feels friendship towards Jim".  
> Love doesn't understand logic. One doesn't choose who you fall in love with :)
> 
> * Vulcan culture is an arranged marriage culture. T'pring loves Stonn. Spock loves Jim. Neither break the engagement. We need to respect Vulcan culture and accept it.
> 
> * I believe they finally bond during the fight in Amok time. All that *rubbing* gets Spock off. He finally cements his t'hy'la bond and hence he no longer has plak tow, as shown in the last few minutes of the episode.
> 
>  
> 
> P.S : I understand this may be a controversial chapter for you. I ask you to be kind to me. Thank you, LLAP.


	47. The experiment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter. Sorry it is so, umm, cheesy? I just wanted to end it like this. I will try and do an epilogue. But, otherwise we are done. So yeah, if anyone seems out of character, just forgive me.  
> I am tired, so help with blatant grammatical mistakes are very much appreciated.

 

* * *

 

“I am hungry!" Jim stood up and stretched.

"Shall we go out to eat dinner?"

 

"I am interested in such an experience." Spock was still sitting on the sofa, one leg folded under another, looking up at Jim with warm eyes. Small things like Spock sitting informally, kept tugging at Jim’s heartstrings.

 

“Actually, it’s not even an option. We need to celebrate you turning 23. And then there’s the experiment. Though, that works best in summer.” Jim rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“We will just repeat the experiment in summer. That should give you a good measure of reliability as well.” Jim clapped his hands once, happy with his own solution.

 

"I know just the place! The nearest town is Riggins. There is this awesome place called Little Italy. I have been there with my uncle when I was a kid. But, it’s the kind of place where you take your…Well, let’s just say, uncles are not the best choice. ” Jim blushed.

 

Spock tilted his head to one side, folded his arms across his chest, and raised an eyebrow.

 

“What?” Jim grinned at him.

 

“Your exuberance is endearing.”

 

Jim’s smile widened. “Well, what do you think of my idea?”

 

"Jim, would this be considered a date?"

 

"Depends. If you want it to be, else not." Then, he remembered their conversation from earlier, in the morning and became worried.

“Spock, it doesn’t have to be anything. We don’t need to label it. In fact, we don’t need to label us, you know. We are just - you and me, Spock and Jim.  We are just going to -”

 

"I would like to go on a date with you."

 

“I see.” Jim swallowed. "Okay then, there are some rules, you should know of." Jim held up his hand and counted on each finger as he spoke, "First, you have to dress to impress. Second, have fun. There is a third rule, handle your liquor but it's safe to say that doesn't apply to you."

 

“Or me,” he added as an afterthought. He definitely needed his sobriety to keep his word to Spock.

 

"I find them all logical." Spock stood up.

 

"Let’s get ready... meet me down here in, umm, twenty five minutes?" Jim was already half-way to the stairs, almost vibrating with excitement.

Spock nodded and followed him up the stairs in a more dignified manner. They went into their respective bedrooms.

 

Once inside his room, Jim considered what to wear. Spock had packed almost everything he owned. _Oh, how well Spock knew him_. He chose a deep red shirt and a light blue jeans. All dressed up, he looked in the mirror and immediately felt unsure.

 

 _No, he needed a shower. He had one in the morning, but yup, a quick second one was needed._ He stripped down in a rush,dashed inside the common bathroom and was back to his room in a few minutes.

Then, he carefully dressed in a light green formal shirt, dark grey trousers, a slim belt and finished with his steel grey blazer. He folded a pocket square in his jacket, while glancing nervously at the antique clock in his room.

 

One spritz of his favorite cologne, and then he bounded down the stairs, two at a time, not wanting to be late on their very first date. He was putting on his shoes when he heard Spock come down.

 

The tall Vulcan was dressed in a crisp white shirt, burgundy suit and trousers, with a matching skinny burgundy tie.

 

Jim stopped in the action of putting on his shoes and looked awestruck. He had never seen Spock in formals.

 

Dark eyes studied him from his head to his feet, and then Spock bent down gracefully to put on his own shoes. Jim blinked, and fumbled with his loafers, trying to unscramble his brain waves.

 

Outside, the evening air felt refreshingly cool against Jim’s warm cheeks. The hovercraft appeared out of the darkening sky, and they climbed in silently.

Jim cleared his throat. “Little Italy, Riggins.” He commanded the navigation console and they were off with a _whoosh_.

 

The journey was over breathtaking scenery; the town of Riggins was nestled deep in a canyon at the confluence of two rivers.  But Jim’s eyes kept straying from the view outside; he couldn’t stop stealing glances at Spock while his Vulcan was absorbed in taking it all in. Spock sat with one long leg crossed over another, his hands folded neatly on his lap, the suit and tie cutting sharp edges on the perfect body. Dark hair framed the most alluring face Jim had ever seen.

_Did he even realize what effect he had on Jim?_

 

Spock turned at that very moment, as if he had heard Jim’s thoughts, and their eyes met.

Jim melted. “Hi.”

Spock’s eyes twinkled and the pink lips bent just slightly, “Hello.”

 

A burst of giggles erupted from Jim, much to his embarrassment.

“What is amusing you, Jim?”

“Nothing. Just nothing at all.”

 

* * *

 

  


Spock desperately needed a distraction.

_Had Jim chosen that green shirt knowing what affect it had on his hazel eyes, and in turn, on Spock’s controls?_

 

Twilight pouring through the windows illuminated the ends of Jim’s blond hair and his eyelashes - a halo around his _las’hark._ Now Jim was smiling at him and Spock had to remember to breath.

 

Spock looked back outside. The dipping sun funneled into the dark canyons and reflected on the water below - chaotic and frothing - as it cradled its way around rocks, mirroring Spock’s internal state.

 

“What is the name of that river?” Learning about Jim’s childhood neighborhood was a good enough diversion, he hoped.

 

Jim looked out along the direction Spock’s finger had indicated.

“That is Salmon river, and that - the one joining it, is called Little Salmon.”

 

“Interesting names,” Spock observed.

 

“There is a reason behind it. This river is part of one of the longest Salmon runs on Earth. Salmons are these fish -” Jim turned towards Spock, showing the size of a fish with his hands, “which start their lives in rivers like these, and then in the most amazing feat of nature, they return to their native freshwater spawning grounds after years. At which point they stop eating and transmogrify into these ruby-red, fanged beasts hellbent on mating, and only mating!”

 

“To mate or die,” Spock replied quietly. This conversation had taken on a surprising twist.

 

“Yes! They actually die trying, Spock.” Jim shook his head, his eyes wide in innocent wonder.

 

To humans, such a natural phenomenon must indeed look wondrous. Nature had a way of reminding Spock who he was, never letting him forget his own true nature. Lest he forget the shame. Lest he actually became happy.

 

Happiness was not a state of mind Spock was destined to experience, it seemed.

 

Spock turned his head away from Jim to shield against his gaze. It had been a momentary surfacing of his pain, but he would not dwell. He concentrated on redirecting his focus on the magic of the evening.

 

He could see the signs of civilization appear below - the town of Riggins must have been nearing.

 

“Spock?” Jim’s voice was had taken on a different tenor. Spock closed his eyes and took a deep breath. No matter how much he had tried, Jim had instantly recognized his turmoil. He had always been so successful in hiding his emotions from other humans, from other Vulcans but not this one human. Sometimes he speculated if Jim was not psi null after all.

 

“What’s wrong?” A soft hand touched his clasped fingers.

 

 _Care. Compassion. Hurt. Fear. Pain. Lust….Love._  Like the river below, Jim’s emotions flowed through the touch.

 

“Let me help you, Spock.” A human finger touched his chin and gently turned his head around, till he was facing Jim. Spock opened his eyes and looked into two oceans of kindness.

 

 _Pain_.  Jim’s emotions were bleeding through both the touches but pain was the dominant one now. Jim was in pain because he was in pain. And Jim wanted to help.

 

Hadn’t Spock once been in this position before when Jim was suffering on a bathroom floor writhing in agony? And hadn’t he felt the exact same need to help Jim? So acute was the need to help that Spock had melded with Jim, forgetting all the rules. Spock understood now Jim’s need to help him, only unfortunately,his human couldn’t really do anything.

 

“Jim,” Spock chose his words carefully and tenderly. “There are things which I can not speak of. It is not because I do not trust you or value you. Sometimes, some tales are not ours to share. What is mine is yours, Jim. But I am a Vulcan and I carry with me the image of my people. Have you ever felt the need to protect something? Something so complex that you could not share without compromising others’ privacy?”

 

Jim looked at Spock, eyes studying in serious contemplation.

 

“You are half-human, though?”

 

“Indeed I am. But I have chosen the Vulcan way.”

 

“I see.” Jim dropped his hand from Spock’s chin, his expression still a picture of introspection. Spock kept quiet. He knew Jim was trying to understand his words. But more than that, Jim was trying to decipher the words Spock had not spoken.

 

Jim understood Spock’s silence and for that Spock would eternally be grateful.

 

“Yes, I understand that. I didn’t tell you about the note from Finnegan. Even when you asked me. And...there are things from my past, which I don’t talk about. And it’s not because I don’t trust you.” Jim was looking down, his long eyelashes resting on his cheeks.

 

Spock could now sense Jim’s own pain. Jim was probably recollecting the horrendous abuse Spock had seen during the mind meld. Spock’s insides twisted anew.

 

The hovercraft started dropping down rapidly to the ground. The sudden motion pulled them out of the abyss of pain they both seemed to have started sinking in.

 

“We are here!” Jim jerked his head up and looked outside.

 

Then he turned towards Spock and there was a smile on his face. This was Jim’s courage. His ability to smile in the face of overwhelming darkness.

“So we are both tortured souls, huh?”

 

A new emotion from Jim made its presence known through the touch - _hope_.

 

“What was it you had told me earlier? That there is no other wisdom and no other hope for us but that we grow wise?” Jim’s smile reached his eyes.

 

Spock couldn’t resist the light, the hope, the positivity Jim was emanating. He felt it too.

 

“Yes, Jim.” Spock took Jim’s hand in his own and pulled in his human till their faces almost touched. “You do help me, you do not know how much.”

 

Jim laughed as he fell towards Spock. “Is that so?” He put his other hand on Spock’s thigh to steady himself.

 

Spock’s breath hitched.

 

Jim breathed against his face.

“Sometimes I don wanna help you...sometimes, I want to make you helpless.”

 

Jim’s lips pressed against his and Spock’s senses reeled against the electrifying touches. He had been unprepared.

 

Soft lips claimed his, the weight of a human palm on his thigh,sliding up dangerously almost undid him, and warm fingertips brushing against his own - unknowingly approximating an ozh'esta - sent Spock into ecstatic heights.

 

When Jim broke their kiss, moving away from Spock completely, it took Spock several moments to register his surroundings.

 

“Like this,” Jim winked.

 

Spock just looked at Jim in awe.

 

Jim opened the door and jumped down with agility.

 

“Well, Mr. Spock, can you move or do I need to carry you?”

 

Spock smoothed his hair and straightened his tie. “Vulcans are heavier than Humans, as you no doubt remember. You can not carry me.” He stepped down from the hover and tugged on his jacket’s ends.

 

“We will see about that!” Jim was unfazed.

 

Spock had forgone his winter coat, in the hope that Jim wouldn’t make him walk in cold on a  “date.” He was proven right. They were  standing in front a mammoth building, with transparent doors. Inside was a climate controlled atrium of gigantic proportions, at the center of which flowed a blue canal. Both sides were lined with shops, of all types and sizes. Spock recognized the Terran city of Venice from Italy.

 

“An excellent replica,” Spock was impressed.

“Isn’t it amazing?”

“Indeed.”

 

They walked, their hands brushing now and then, while Gondolas passed by them, in the water, and Italian music played somewhere. Lanterns from a century far gone by, flickered along both sides of the canal, and the air smelled of fresh flowers.

 

“Let’s go book our table first and then we will come back, sounds good?” Jim asked.

 

Spock nodded absent mindedly, lost in the sights and sounds. It was a complete city contained within the structure. Quite like a spaceship. People walked hand in hand, and families lounged by the waterside, the children running around in circles.

 

Jim had to keep pulling Spock by his sleeve, as they made their way to Jim’s restaurant, since his attention kept wandering away.

 

When Jim slid his fingers into his palm, Spock immediately forgot everything and looked at Jim in surprise.

 

“What? I can’t hold your hand?” Jim challenged playfully.

 

Spock’s eyes roamed over Jim’s face, settling on his lips for a moment, before he remembered to look back up. Of course, it was just holding hands for Jim. Spock looked around himself. There were only humans everywhere, and no one would know the significance of Spock holding Jim’s hands in such an intimate manner. Spock hoped his blush wasn’t visible on his face when he replied, “When have I ever been able to refuse you anything?”

 

Jim’s mouth opened slightly and his human blinked.

 

“Where are we going?” Spock asked, satisfied at being able to render Jim speechless.

 

“Uhhhh...ummm, it’s a small family run restaurant, and they serve the best food you have ever tasted.”

Jim pointed with this other hand. “There, that one.”

 

Spock looked up at the front of the eatery and read, “Fiaschetteria - Tratoria.”

“You can read Italian?”

“I have rudimentary knowledge.”

“How?”

 

They walked towards their destination and at the entrance, Jim tapped at one of the kiosks, to input their names and communicator number. The machine informed them a wait time of 45 minutes.

 

“I spent one year learning as much about Terran culture and history, as possible, before I started at the Academy. Knowledge of the classics necessitated learning some Italian,” Spock explained.

 

“You never cease to amaze me, Spock.” Jim pulled Spock away from the restaurant. “We have 45 minutes to kill, do you want to go back to the canal side?”

  


* * *

 

 

“Yes,” Spock replied with enthusiasm.

 

Jim’s heart fluttered. He had dreamed since a young age of someday riding the Italian boats, resting his head on a special someone’s shoulder, while the rhythmic thrust of the Gondolier's oar took them to another world.

 

He soaked in every second of this surreal evening. He was walking, holding hands with Spock, in one of the most romantic settings he had known, and his Vulcan actually seemed to be liking it!

 

They reached the wide river and he asked Spock tentatively. “You like it that much?”

 

“Very much so. It is a marvelous feat of engineering. I am most curious to see the filtration system and how they recycle this massive volume of liquid.”

 

_Right! So that’s what Spock was going ga-ga over._

 

“Of course.” Jim looked at his scientist with fondness. Spock’s eyes were studying the sides of the canal, eyebrows knit adorably. Jim decided a direct approach was needed.

 

He put his other hand on Spock’s hair and turned his head till Spock’s eyes were aligned with a Gondola. “What about riding in those?”

 

Spock raised an eyebrow at Jim. “Are you interested?”

 

Jim nodded emphatically.

 

“Very well, then.”

 

“We will first talk to the Chief Engineer, so you don’t sulk during the ride,” Jim grinned.

“Vulcans do not sulk.”

“But you are half-human, so you are capable of half-sulking.”

“Jim.”

 

Jim raised his chin and leaned into Spock. “Do you think it would be very inappropriate if I kissed you now, Mr. Spock?”

Spock leaned away, eyes a little wide. “We are already holding hands publicly, Jim. On Vulcan, such behavior is limited to…”

“To what?” Jim leaned in closer.

“To - to - a _shif_ .” Spock looked like a deer caught in a hover’s headlights.  
“That’s cheating, Mister. You know I don’t know Vulcan.”

 

Spock simply raised his eyebrows and gave an innocent expression.

 

“Fine. Let’s go find that engineer.”

 

They found the Engine room; it was situated one floor under the atrium level, and the only people coming in and going out, were the service crew. Each of whom gave Spock and Jim a curious glance.

 

The Chief Engineer almost fainted on hearing Spock’s interest. Jim watched with lips pressed in mute glee at the scene in front of him. Spock asked the man question after question, and the poor guy stuttered as he answered the insanely handsome Vulcan, who was dressed to kill.

 

By the time they left, Jim was sure that the Engineer was ready to marry Spock.

 

There wasn’t enough time left for the ride. The restuarant called to let them know their table  was ready.

 

“After we eat then.” Spock promised solemnly.

 

The small restaurant had tables and chairs along its patio, facing the canal, which is where the restaurant’s robot led them to.

Spock started looking at the holo-menu with his customary studious expression.

 

"They have good vegetarian options here. Let me order for you?" Jim offered helpfully.

"Thank you," Spock looked relieved.

 

Jim tapped on the holo-display and ordered while Spock watched the scenery around them. He picked a salad with carrots and tomatoes for Spock and chose raw ham and melons as a starter for himself.  

 

When he was done choosing all their items, he settled back and looked at Spock. The sounds of laughter and conversations swirled around them under the artificially moonlit sky

“What are you thinking?”

 

Spock didn’t turn his head towards Jim. "I was thinking about the matter-antimatter equation that has been troubling me for some months."

"What’s the problem?"

“It is a delicate balance.” A long index finger tapped on the table. “Unless I achieve the  correct proportions, the ship will blow up. The problem is it has never been done before. All I have is theory.”

“Hmmmm. I thought there was only one ratio with matter-antimatter, 1:1.”  

 

“That is correct.” Spock turned towards Jim. “However, that is valid during normal functioning of a ship. The equation I am trying to come up with, will make possible to achieve warp from a cold start.”

“How would you do that?” Jim asked. “May be a controlled implosion?”

“Precisely.” Spock’s eyes glowed. “I will have to harness the theoretical relationship between time and antimatter.”

Jim thought about it for some time. “I think it is possible. Keep at it, Spock.”

 

Spock beamed - as much as Vulcans could beam.

"I have been thinking of other matters as well.”

 

“I would love to hear about your other experiments, future Science Officer.” Jim put his elbows on the table and leaned in.

 

Spock’s lips curled up a teeny bit. _How easy it was to please his crazy friend._

 

“I was also thinking that you appear particularly pleasing to the eye, tonight." The tips of two pointed ears took on a green hue.

 

Jim broke into subdued laughter.

"I will never tire of you, Spock." Then he added, softly, "You look sexy as hell."

 

While Spock worked out that phrase in his giant brain, Jim asked, "Where did you get these clothes from?"

"Captain Pike helped me acquire several items in my first year on Earth."

"I have to thank him, later." Jim spoke so softly that no one else would have been able to hear him. But, Spock raised an eyebrow in a clear indication that he had heard it perfectly.

 

Their food arrived carried by a beautiful waitress, who balanced all the plates expertly. She laid out each plate on their table while Jim looked at her admiringly and then startled.

“Alessandra?”

 

The girl looked at Jim and at first seemed surprised. Then recognition dawned on her face as well.

“James?” She spoke in a lilting voice.

Jim blushed. “Yes, the very same.” He smiled at her.

“I have not seen you around here? In years? How are you?” The questions tumbled out of her as she flipped a lock of curled hair off her shoulder.

“I’ve been gone actually. I am just visiting. Didn’t expect to run into you.”

She blushed this time. “I own this place now. Bought it from Adriana’s family.”

“That’s great! Congratulations.” Jim was genuinely happy for her.

 

She nodded at him and their eyes locked for a brief second. “Enjoy your food, gentlemen.” She walked away, hips swaying gracefully.

 

A clearing of throat brought Jim back. Spock was drilling holes into him with deadly dark eyes.

Jim looked down at his proscuitto crito e melani in embarrassment. “She was my first kiss. I was eleven I think. Neither of us knew what we were doing.”  Jim shook his head at the memory of his clumsy attempt.

 

“Interesting.”

 

Jim looked up. Spock was stabbing his salad with unnatural force.

 

“I never saw her again after that summer,” Jim offered.

 

“You seem to allude first performances are not upto par.” Spock had pierced a carrot and was twisting it around.

 

Jim’s eyebrows arched up.

“Where did you infer that from?”

 

“Do you deny it?” The carrot crumbled into pieces under the attack.

“Spock!” Jim whispered. “Was it - Am I the first person you kissed?”

“There are not many Humans on Vulcan, Jim.”

“And Vulcan’s don’t date, right?” Jim completed the thought.

“Correct.”

 

Jim didn’t know what to say. He was overwhelmed. He had suspected this at the back of his mind, but he had never really stopped to face it.

“Hey, look at me.”

 

His Vulcan abandoned picking up the carrot and amber eyes trained on him.

“I love you, Spock.”

 

They looked at each other. Bit by bit Spock’s expression changed. When he concentrated on his salad again, Jim saw that it was being treated kindly. Spock had understood. And apparently, was unable to speak.

  
  
  


Their main course was pasta lasagna. Spock picked a spoonful of his pasta, sniffed at it, and then seemed to approve. Cautiously, he placed the spoon in his mouth, chewed and then an eyebrow rose. Jim was grinning ear to ear at the entertainment.

 

"Like it?" Jim started eating his own.

Spock nodded.

"Who knew you would like Italian, huh?" Jim quipped.

 

Once they were done with their dinner, Alessandra arrived with their dessert - a sundae topped with hot fudge, and two spoons stuck in it. This was the part Jim had been waiting for.

 

The Vulcan examined it for several seconds. Jim was having the time of his life watching Spock.

"Well? You have to taste it now. Just looking at it won't do any good for your experiment!" Jim held his spoon ready.

 

Spock, picked his own spoon, and took his first tentative bite.

 

"This is most pleasant, Jim."

 

_Not fascinating, straight to pleasant!_

 

For the next several minutes, he watched as Spock, polished off the entire sundae, taking tiny bites at a time. He didn’t even pause to check if Jim was eating his share. Jim wasn’t.

 

When the last spoonful disappeared into Spock's mouth, the Vulcan leaned back, and licked his lips! Jim nearly fell out of his chair.

 

"You seem to really like it," he commented cautiously.

"I love it," Spock declared.

"You _love_ it?" Jim repeated. "Are you feeling okay, Spock?"

 

Spock thought about that for a long moment, and then his face scrunched up in an expression of confusion. He replied, "I am having trouble answering that question."

 

"Ummmm….Is this some Vulcan variation of lactose intolerance?" Jim wondered, half to himself.

Spock looked at Jim seriously and then let out an audible sigh, and slumped back into his chair.

 

Jim pressed the button on the holo-display and indicated his intention to leave. Alessandra was back at their table in a minute. Jim watched Spock from the corner of an eye, as he settled the transaction.

 

If Spock had looked sexy in a suit before, now that he seemed curiously relaxed, the Vulcan looked drop dead gorgeous.

 

He turned to Alessandra with a smile, thanking her and wished her good luck. She smiled back, her face lighting up with warmth and asked him drop by if he ever came back. He was still looking at her when Spock sprang out of his chair, leaned on the table towards her and growled, "Mine!"

 

Jim and Alessandra looked at him, stunned.

"Excuse me?" She stammered.

"Spock?" Jim said at the same time.

 

Spock didn't even look at Jim. He kept glaring at the girl, and repeated ferociously, "Mine!"

Alessandra looked wide eyed towards Spock and then at Jim. She started retreating nervously, while saying, "Yes, yes, of course, Sir!"

 

Jim came back to his senses, when she turned and literally ran inside. He called out after her, "I am sorry!  My friend isn't feeling well!"

 

"C'mon. Let's get you home. Not sure what's going on with you, but this is not normal. I hope I haven't poisoned you or something with that ice cream." Jim was worried. He went to Spock's side, when his friend showed no inclination of leaving.

Jim took hold of his elbow and pulled him. Thankfully, Spock cooperated. He guided Spock, with his hands around his elbow, out of the restaurant.

 

"Jim."

"Yes, what's wrong with you?"

"Jim, you are always so soft."

 _Dear Lord. “_ We are going home.”

“No.”

“No?”

“We must ride your boat. A Vulcan always keeps his word.” Spock started moving away with determined long strides.

“Spock!” Jim ran after him. “Listen, you can keep your word some other time. I am seriously concerned.”

“You worry about everyone, _Ashayam_. Who worries about you?”

“Ummm?!”

 

Spock came to a halt at the canal edge and flagged down an empty Gondola with staggering confidence.

 

They sat side by side in a seat which was meant to clearly fit only two people. Thankfully, there was no one else riding with them. The Gondolier turned his back on them and started steering them down the water.

 

Jim tried to squirm away, to give Spock some personal space. Spock looked at him with a hurt expression which made him stop squirming immediately. Then, Spock reached out, placed his hands around Jim, lifted him up like a child and placed Jim on his lap sideways.

 

“SPOCK!”

“T'nash-veh,” Spock looked up at him reverently.

“Goodness. Spock, put me down!”

 

The Gondolier turned around. “Is there a problem, Sir?”

 

Jim turned scarlet. “No, no, sorry, everything is fine.”

 

Spock seemed unperturbed. Long arms wrapped around Jim’s waist and Spock rested his chin on Jim’s arm.

“Vaksur,” Spock murmured.

 

Jim gave him a long suffering look. “You are apparently drunk. Or high. Or something very un-Spock like. And I need to learn Vulcan.”

 

Spock thought about that for sometime. “I do seem to have trouble parsing your speech. Why would I be elevated, Jim?”

 

“Spock, honey please, I’m the one who is elevated. Put me down.”

Spock finally let Jim go, but still kept one arm firmly around Jim’s shoulders and they settled next to each other.

 

After some time, Spock turned to Jim and spoke in his ears, “I will weave your golden hair into a web of song.”

“My hair? Are you - you being poetic now?” Jim was torn between feeling aghast and elated.

“All the secrets of the world will be my gift to you,” Spock continued in that deep, rich voice.

 

 _I have died and gone to heaven._ It was the only logical conclusion Jim could draw at this point.

“I'll overcome the force of gravity, the laws of space and light.” Spock’s lips brushed against Jim’s ears.

“I'll keep you from your solitude, because to me, you are so special,  I'll take care of you.”

“Spock? Are you trying to make me cry?”

“No, Jim. I would never want that.”

“Where is all this coming from?”

“It is the lyrics of the song.”

 

Jim paid attention and yes, there was a beautiful song playing somewhere, as their boat glided under arches. It was in Italian and Jim had hence tuned it out.

 

“I don’t know what to say. It is beautiful.”

“So are you,” Spock replied. “And I believe time will flow backwards if the equation works.”

 

Jim gave up and melted against Spock. He was absolutely certain that Spock was going to wake up tomorrow, mortified at his extreme un-Vulcan behavior. And Jim was never going to let him live this down.

 

The Gondola carried them, and Jim rested his head on Spock’s shoulder - strong arms held him close - while the universe around them sang their song.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here is a LONG meta on Vulcan culture. My friend, **FalsePremise** , started asking me questions about my headcanon one day. We got really technical and I thought I will post our conversation here, if anyone else may be interested. Please feel free to ignore any or all of it. It’s just my insane obsession with Vulcans!

**Warning: mature language.**

 

  * About your head canon that Vulcans need a meld to climax - does that mean they can't masturbate? And that amok time is the first time Spock climaxes at all?  
    * Me: They can masturbate. Hence they are bonded at young age. Else young males will go mad. It's not same as sex but with the bond in place, they can telepathically reach out. It's consensual in most cases, except in cases like Spock. Among Vulcans are also variations in sexual orientation. Spock is to use human terms, on the ace side. He also is delayed sexually. Due to his unique biology. Hence his ponn farr is late. He gets attracted only couple of times in his lifetime. So, ponn farr would be yes his first sexual experience. They are mismatched in this way. Spock is emotionally more mature than Jim but Jim is physically way more mature than Spock. What do you think?
  * Wow that's fascinating! I love that you've explained why they bond do early at seven! I've always thought if it were just for Pon Farr wouldn't you wait a bit longer then they can be matched better. So, why can't Spock use his bond with T'Pring? Or is that because he is in love with Jim and wouldn't be able to help reaching for their connection, fully bonding them?
    * Me: When Spock and t'pring were bonded, neither knew Spock would turn out to be sexually delayed. She is a VERY frustrated bondmate. Her coldness towards Spock is partly due to this. If I remember correctly Vulcans male have first ponn far around 14 yrs. But nothing happened to Spock. He hasn't ever reached out to t'pring.
  * Oh really? Oh so many questions! Do sexual feelings normally start with first pon farr? Can't she reach out to him or does it have to be the male who initiates?
    * Me: It's like us humans. Tweens or younger have sexual feelings but not full sex. Hence the whole concept of being minors. Before first ponn far, they are like young tweens. They use the bond but it's enough for their ahem, lesser needs. Does that make sense?
  * Yes I think so. But it has to be the male who starts this or is T'Pring just reluctant to use the bond as Spock doesn't?
    * Me: Unfortunately vulcan society seems to have atrocious sexism. As a woman you are to be someone's "property". She would initiate, but that's after the male first starts. A normal Vulcan bonded pair, go through the stages together. They live in same city most likely. They meet each other and love each other. Spock is oblivious to T'pring's needs. As she grows up, she feels scorned and rejected. I mean nary a peep over the bond. She has her pride!
  * I love that you've made T'Prings attitude make sense.  I find the degree of sexism in Vulcan society hard to get an accurate sense of though - as in there's mixed signals. The language around being 'property' in amok time is very sexist of course.  Yet T'Pau holds a position of such power. And then there's the way Sarek treats Amanda 'wife, attend' yet when questioned Amanda says 'he's Vulcan'. It is my hope I guess that Vulcan society isn't generally sexist. That either a regressive attitude remains around bonding due to Pon farr but other forms of sexism aren't present. Or that Vulcan's are highly possessive of their bond mates and that both males and females treat their partners in that manner, refer to them as property, etc. And perhaps older language remains due to 'tradition' but isn't upheld in practice. Like how some still say the old 'love honour and obey' vows even though many women who say that do not intend to obey their husbands. What do you think? Maybe I just find it hard to reconcile sexism with logic
    * Me: Yes I agree. The sexism stems from the fact that unlike us, humans, they are ruled by animalistic biology. Similar to how animals go into heat, they needed to institutionalize a system, so this ponn farr works out. Else it would turn into incest, rape, rampant chaos and death. Happens in animal kingdom like deers rut. My cats , 4 months old , siblings, almost committed incest, before I managed to get them neutered.
  * Yes a system to handle that is logical. So you agree there's likely little sexism outside of that system of obligations to deal with Pon Farr? Like female vulcans can live their own lives, make their own decisions hold positions of power?
    * Me: Yes they can, depending on their personalities. It will take some strong personality traits. But they are still subjected to the system./ young female , not wanting to bond, and do her thang would be severely looked down upon. An older woman, who bonded and lived many years, naturally widowed or separated has that freedom.
  * So you think they'd have to obey and follow their husband? I'd hope they'd be obligated to meet his needs re Pon Farr but free to make their own decisions on other matters
    * Me: Yes. Else the males will not have partners when ponn farr strikes. I am not saying that's fair. It is collectivist society for you. But overall this works out. The initial bonding, both parties agree. Arranged marriage but they take pains to try to listen to their kids preferences.
  * Oh it isn't fair but it is necessary. I mean females aren't going to benefit from the rampant rapes and male deaths if nothing is done. It is interesting that it is the male that experiences Pon Farr. Do you think the female experiences something similar or does Pon Farr of her mate trigger a particular state in her through the bond? With mammals like cats it is the female that goes into heat signalling fertility.
    * Me: Spock went in ponn farr on genesis. Unless Savik was in heat( didn't seem like). So I believe it works on a cycle. The male goes into it, due to his cycle. The female then must also go into submissive heat to withstand it.



  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation from Vulcan  
> ***********************  
> Shif - couple.
> 
> T'nash-veh - belonging to me
> 
> Vaksur - the quality that gives pleasure to the mind or senses and is associated with such properties as harmony of form or color, excellence of artistry, truthfulness, and originality; one who is beautiful.
> 
> Notes  
> ******  
> The descriptions of Idaho and Italy are all factually correct. The only creative liberty I took is bringing Italy to Riggins. But by 23rd century I see it being feasible!
> 
> If you don’t get the reference to Salmons, please watch the episode -“Amok Time”.
> 
> If you haven’t watched the movie, “Star trek - the Voyage Home,” you may miss out on some fun about the Italian theme.
> 
> The Italian song that was playing - https://youtu.be/fiPbrZwXfbU  
> Here is a better translation - http://ilsogno.wikia.com/wiki/La_Cura  
> To my friend, ayris4 - Thank you and your mom for the help with the menu and song ;) È stato divertente ingannare voi!
> 
>  
> 
> Also, I completely forgot to mention the song the man at the campfire sang, in Chapter 21, while Jim and others danced around. The song is https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ADTaww3Lvxs.  
> Thank you to my friend, BDC, for the recommendation.


	48. Note

I apologize for not being able to write this last chapter. This is my first ever fic and I was unprepared for the journey, lol. 

 

Thank you for reading and sticking along with me.

 

I wanted to let you know Alexai Ivanov comes back to Star Fleet. Spock traces him down in a remote part of Russia. He leaves his home because his parents do find out about him. He spends the months, alone and fending for himself, trying to find within himself who is. He had lived a sheltered life up until we meet him.

At the end, when Captain Pike officially extends him an invitation to come back, he accepts. He never stops loving Jim, and like the man he fell in love with, he lives out his life in making the world a better place. This song is for him and for others who believe in hope - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ckNIMPQoBPw. 

 

 Thank you SO much to my beta -  **Owyheewinds.** You volunteered out of nothing but good faith and though later chapters couldn't be beta'd, I learned so, so much. Not just about English but about life. I am so inspired by you, dear friend. I wish you good health and happiness.

 

I treasure all your kudos. I read a post about kudos once - _" friendly reminder that “kudos” means “glory” in ancient Greek, so if you give someone kudos you are wishing them renown on the battlefield."_ I don't know if it is actually true, but I am going to just accept that at face value. I definitely need all I can get, to go into the battle field :)

 

To those of you who commented, words fail me to express my gratitude. You have no idea how much every single comment means to me. I will cherish them forever. 

 

Those of you who commented on almost every chapter, you are my heroes and I am a better person having known each of you. You have carried me through this journey. I thank thee with all my heart.

If you have read this far but never commented , I would love to hear from you.

 

I will end with Xena's story. She lost her mate, her sister, and her parents in the war which Lord Garth won for us humans. Humans took away everything from her. She was forced to either hate them forever and exact revenge or believe in universal brotherhood. She chose the latter. She helped Jim because she believed an entire race can not be bad. In her words then, I will say good bye - "We are a family now. Do not forget that you are a peace warrior. Do not stop fighting for peace."

LLAP, my friends.

Note: This is complete. Don’t subscribe to this. Subscribe to me as an user:)  


 

 

 

 

 


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